Daydream
by justwaittilligetthrough
Summary: They were Promised to each other and she didn't even know it. All she knew was that every time she slept he crept into her dreams.
1. Volume I: Dream Lover

_**Every night you creep into my dreams**_

_**It seems so real but it's a fantasy**_

_**You come into my room, come to me**_

_**But it's just a fantasy…**_

* * *

The dreams didn't happen until November.

Mercedes lived her life as normal as a teenage with self-esteem issues could. Eat, purge, brush, rinse, and repeat. Gargle salt water so her vocal cords weren't ruined, step on the scale and measure her sins, then get ready for the day.

Okay, so it wasn't normal. But it was _her _normal, and she was okay with it. Nobody bothered her about it because they didn't know. Nobody knew Mercedes was slowly dying. Not her parents, not her 'friends', no one. She wasn't sure anyone would care anyway. No one thinks it's possible to have an eating disorder when you're fat.

Mercedes didn't purge to be skinny; it was more of an anesthetic. Nobody realizes when they talk about eating disorders that it's a safety net to those that have them. Something happens when all of the calories are purged from your system, that's what no one understands. You become superhuman, you can do anything. You see brighter, you hear better, you run faster. It's adrenaline.

But one day that didn't happen.

_She was gargling salt water after her routine when the fireworks in her heart started. Her hand clasped at her chest, confused. She walked out of her bathroom and stumbled to her bed. Mercedes tried taking her pulse but black dots were blurring her vision. Mercedes could swear at this moment she was having a heart attack. _

_Then something happened. One minute she was on her bed—surely on the brink of death—the next she was in a field filled with fog. There was so much fog Mercedes wasn't sure if it were a field or not. And oddly, this was a bright place; all the sun was shining warm on her skin, and she was floating. But still, there was fog._

_Mercedes floated around the beautiful field, searching. She didn't know what she was searching for until she found him. He was as tan as the grass and his hair was the color of sunshine. He reached out a hand to her, and she took it without uncertainty. _

_The man pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair lovingly. "You don't know me." He said._

_Mercedes scrunched up her eyebrows. "Don't I? We're here together and we're hugging. Surely we know each other."_

"_No." He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away to look in her eyes. "I know _you, _but you don't know me. You're Mercedes, and I love you very much. You don't recognize me yet, but I'm Samuel and you call me Sam."_

"_Okay Sam," Mercedes said. "Why was this so important? I don't care if you didn't have a name. I feel loved, and I love you. I know I do, I _feel _it."_

"_You don't understand this yet, but its okay. You don't have to. I came to you because you're killing yourself Mercy."_

_Mercedes felt a boulder lodge itself in her throat. "No-"_

"_Shh, it's okay. I've been watching you for a while. I know everything. I know you're lonely and sad. But you don't have to be much longer. I've come for you."_

"_What? I don't understand." _

_He leaned down until there were centimeters separating their faces. "You can only see me like this when you dream. But I've found a way around that. You won't recognize me the next time we meet. But I'll always be in your dreams." Sam stopped then, not wanting to say more._

"_Why are you in my dreams Sam?"_

"_Because you need me, and I've finally found you. We're Promised."_

_Mercedes tried to comprehend all of this information. She knew she was dreaming, but this was too lucid to just be a dream. "Is this real?"_

"_Only if you want it to be, I can leave you alone if you want."_

_Mercedes shook her head. "Don't leave me. Stay." Sam smiled. _

_She looked up at his eyes and her breath hitched. His eyes were the color of a fresh cut lawn, all hazels and greens. He took her breath away. "You're beautiful." Mercedes whispered. _

_Sam grabbed her face in his hands. "You're devastatingly beautiful, Mercedes. I just want to show you you are. You're hurting yourself pointlessly. There's enough darkness in the world trying to steal your light. Don't take it away from yourself." _

_Sam stepped away from Mercedes, and smiled. She tried moving back to him before he held up a hand to stop her._

"_Why are you-"_

"_The sun's about to overtake the moon." Sam interjected. "I have to leave now. But you'll see me soon. I promise."_

* * *

_**I hope you enjoyed the prelude to this story. Please review and share your thoughts on if I should continue or not! Until next time!**_


	2. Deja Vu

**And daydream is all that I can do  
I feel raptured over you  
In silence  
I keep it to myself  
Come and take me  
I don't want nobody else…**

* * *

Mercedes was shaken after that incident. She couldn't pay attention in class, and everywhere she turned she thought Sam would be there, because he promised. And finally, when Christmas break was on the horizon, something happened.

Mercedes was in glee club zoning out as usual, thinking of Sam. She was watching the threshold of the choir room imagining him taking her away like he did every night in her dreams as Rachel droned on about her love for the great Streisand. Just as her fantasy was getting good someone came bustling through the threshold. It startled the thoughts out of her mind and brought her back to the present.

Mr. Schue smiled like he had won the lottery and walked over to the newbie, grasping his shoulder like a lost friend. "Guys, I would like all of you to give a warm welcome to our new glee club member, Sam Evans!"

Most of everyone gave him a smile and/or wave, but Mercedes was frozen in her seat. She knew it couldn't be _the _Sam she's been daydreaming over for the past month. He wasn't her Sam, was he? She coughed and shifted in her seat, hoping against all hope that her dreams were finally going to become a reality.

Mercedes smiled at him just as he turned to look at her. Her breath was snatched away the moment their eyes locked. He was just as beautiful as her dream Sam. His hair was the exact shade of sunshine Dream Sam had, and his eyes were just as overwhelming. But he looked away too quick. He didn't recognize her.

She bit her lips as water drowned into her eyelids. She couldn't believe how stupid she'd let herself become. How lonely did one person have to be in order to make up a soul mate in their mind? How pathetic was she? Mercedes turned away from the class, pretending to grab something from her bag and wiped her tears away discreetly.

Mr. Schue went on about how excited he was that a new member was around to jazz things up, and Mercedes felt herself grow indifferent all over again. Besides the sad shame her fantasy turned up to be, another glee member was unnecessary. Mr. Schue couldn't even appreciate the members he already had, there was no way having another person to sway in the back and ignore was beneficial to anyone.

"Sam, do you have a song to share with us?"

Sam smiled and gestured at his acoustic guitar meaningfully. "Yeah, I wanted to audition with _Right Here _by Justin Bieber."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. The first thought that came to her mind was _He hasn't even auditioned yet and you're already calling him a part of the team? _Granted Mr. Schue would call anyone a glee club member as long as they had a pulse… And the second thought being, _Justin Bieber? Seriously? _Sam was already off to a mediocre start. Mercedes didn't know the song _Right Here, _but she automatically assumed it was a bad song. _Because it probably was. _

As Sam opened his mouth to start singing, Mercedes prepared herself to hear a whining girlish sounding song, but instead she was pleasantly surprised.

_Baby, I'm here, I'm here to stay_

_I ain't going nowhere_

_I know you're scared cause you've been hurt_

_Baby, it's alright_

_Lost in your eyes every time that you look in mine_

_I promise to be all that you need_

_I won't leave you baby, no_

_Oh, so this is Sam's purpose, _Mercedes thought. He was here to break some hearts. She knew he was, because he was already flirting with Quinn through the song. She was smiling like a little child and he was beaming right back at her. She couldn't blame either one of them, they were gorgeous people. But that didn't mean it wasn't hurtful to watch her dream lover flirt with other girls. It was weird and depressing all at once.

Despite the shameless blatancy of Sam's purpose in glee club, he was a great vocalist and guitarist. Sam was talented, and if he actually got a chance to shine, he'd surely beam on stage. _If only talent guaranteed solos in glee club. _

He ended his song softly and teasingly. He knew he had it in the bag and everyone else did too. This so called 'audition' was more of a showcase than anything. But whatever.

"So what did you guys think?" Sam asked.

"That was absolutely magnificent!" Rachel exclaimed, jumping out of her chair to bounce over to Sam and shake his hand. "I'm Rachel, by the way. I think it's only fair you get to know me better because I see plenty of duets between us in the near future."

"Hi." Was all Sam said.

Mercedes could hear Santana mumbling something about going "Lima Heights Adjacent on her ass". She smirked, hoping that would happen sometime soon.

Mr. Schue walked to the front of the class and clapped his hands dismissively at Rachel. She glared at him before taking her place next to Finn.

"So, regionals is looking brighter and brighter right?" The choir director asked hopefully.

Santana cleared her throat. "Mr. Schue as positive as this all seems your optimism is a bit wasted here. Making passing references of a brighter future might fit Trouty Mouth's hair color, but that doesn't fit New Directions. Now frog chops might attract all the men and women that have a fleshy lip fetish, but the judges probably don't care about that. After the whipping we took last year, trying to find new members isn't going to solve our problems. Yes he's talented, and yes he's nice to gaze at and old women with ooze fantasies at the sight of him—but is that going to get us to Nationals? Better yet, Sectionals?"

Mr. Schue's face was pink. "Santana, I think you just brought this week's assignment up without even knowing it."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What, are we actually going to try and make a great set list instead of the B.S. that we usually waste time doing?"

Mr. Schue walked over to the board and grabbed a dry erase marker before writing in all capital letters, _ATTITUDE._

"Mr. Schue, seriously? _That's_ what you gathered from what I said?"

Mercedes noticed that their director was doing a great job at ignoring his students. "Now guys—oh yeah, Sam feel free to take a seat wherever you want." Sam nodded at him before sitting down beside Quinn in an empty chair.

"Anyway, what I've noticed is, New Directions is lacking attitude!" Mr. Schue said, starting a spiel about taking charge on stage. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"…So what I'm saying is, we need to give it the best we've got. The next time we perform we need to go out there and own that stage. That type of thinking takes confidence, and confidence stems from a certain type of attitude. As we all just got through witnessing, one of our glee club members already has plenty of it." Mercedes could hear Rachel snickering from her seat.

"Attitude is your assignment this week. By Friday I expect to hear an attitude driven song from all of you."

Mercedes yawned. Of course Mr. Schue wanted them to have attitude, but not so much to the point where they start gaining confidence and ask for solos or anything else absurd. It was a joke. The lunch bell rang and Mercedes had her stuff together and was out the door before anyone was even out of their seats.

* * *

She didn't mean to be so uninvolved today in class, but it had been eight hours since she had ate anything and she was feeling a bit woozy. Mercedes grabbed some _Doritos _from a vending machine and made her way to the library.

Mercedes was alone most of the time, and most of the time she had homework, so it only made sense that she'd be in the library. But today she couldn't even focus on her homework she was so tired. She made her way into a secluded area between an aisle of Encyclopedias. She ate a few chips before drinking up half a bottle of water. Mercedes started to feel her eyelids grow heavy so she leaned against a bookcase and tried not to snore.

Mercedes knew she was going to end up with her dream Sam before her feet even touched the ground of her fantasy.

* * *

_Mercedes could feel Samuel watching her as she walked over to a nearby pond and sat. It was weird, coming back to this dream place even though she knew it wasn't real. How could she still tap into the same fantasy over and over again? _

_She tried skipping stones, but the pebbles kept drowning no matter what she did. Mercedes felt Sam sit down next to her before she heard him._

"_I know you're upset." Was all he said._

"_I know you're not real, but my mind keeps playing tricks on me." Mercedes said, turning to him. "I see your face and I can't believe I made something so lovely. But still, artificial. The resemblance to Sam Evans is quite shocking, actually."_

_He smiled and shook his head. "The resemblance is so shocking because I _am _Sam Evans."_

"_No, you're not. You're not even real."_

_He frowned. "Now you know that's not true."_

_Mercedes scoffed. "Sure it is! If it wasn't, why didn't you recognize me earlier hmm?"_

_Samuel was silent. _

"_That's what I thought. And to think, I've been happy over a sweet fantasy. I stopped _purging _for you. And you don't even exist!"_

"_It's more complicated than what you're saying Mercedes. What we have is deeper than reality. You don't understand." His beautiful face looked heart broken._

"_I can't believe that anymore." She said, also looking heart broken._

"_If you stop believing in us, I'll become evanescent. Is that what you want?" He asked Mercedes as he grasped her hands in his. _

"_No. I don't want you to go away, but you still lied to me! You said you were gonna come for me, you promised! You even said we were promised to each other."_

"_We are, and I did come for you."_

_She knew her mind was fooling her, but Sam's hands were still as warm as his eyes. "Why don't you recognize me in real life Sam?"_

_He grunted exasperatedly. "What _is_ real life Mercy? Is it your personal hell or heaven? Does reality live behind or in front of your eyelids?" _

_Mercedes was utterly confused. "I d-don't know Sam."_

"_Is reality deemed unreal when you are at your happiness place? Can reality only be torture?"_

"_That's all it's ever been." She said._

_Samuel smiled. "Well maybe you've finally woken up."_

* * *

**I decided to go ahead and post this tonight because I feel it's only fair from all of the love you've sent my way. Thank you to everyone who left words of encouragement! Please review and tell me your thoughts or critique.**

**P.S: Would you rather fast updates with shorter chapters or slow updates with longer chapters? It I updated fast, I'd have new chapters up every other day, but they'd be about this long. If I updated slower, I have a new chapter out about every month with more substantial content, but they wouldn't be novels long. I'll look toward your review for guidance and remember majority rules!**

**P.P.S: Do you live behind or in front of your eyelids?**


	3. Daydream

**And it's sweeter,**

**(I feel sweet)**

**And it's sweeter**

**(I feel sweet)**

**And it's sweeter than sweet…**

* * *

_Mercedes is staring at him like he's lost his mind. And then smirks, because really, if anything it was herself who had lost it. "I doubt it babe, because at the end of it I still have to wake up."_

"_Really?" He asks, "Because every time you leave it looks like you're going to sleep."_

_Mercedes frowns. "You're confusing me. Stop it."_

_Samuel only smiles in return. "I'm quite possessive, really."_

"_Okay?" _

_He tilts her chin up to his. "That's why I'm in this… 'Real Life' you claim to be in. I want to be with you at all times. You need me, and honestly, I can't stay away."_

_Mercedes snorts. "You managed the feat when you ignored me for Quinn."_

"_Okay baby, you don't believe me. I get it. Why don't you… 'Wake up'?" _

_She glares at him. "You're getting rid of me."_

_Samuel started laughing. "One minute you say I don't want to be around you, and the next you're mad that I entertain the thought. Make up your mind sweetheart."_

_Said sweetheart smiles and lies down, pretending to doze off in the comfort of his lap. "I just wanna be around you; tell me if you're feeling the same. Oh baby I just wanna be around you, every minute of the day, oh I'm never gonna let you go!" She sings. _

_Sam hums contently. "Stay with me."_

"_Alright." She hums._

"_No, I'm serious," His grip tightens around her. "Stay with me."_

_Mercedes frowns. "If I stay with you, I don't think I'll wake up."_

"_No, I mean don't ignore me _when_ you awaken." He sounds pained._

"_Sam…?" Mercedes asks, looking up at him._

_He squeezes his eyes closed. "I have yet to actually explain why I'm in two places at once, so listen. It's desperate that I try to be everywhere you are. I love you so much it hurts, Mercy. And it's hurting you, too. Earth is an evil place, after all. But on Earth you hurt yourself, and I can't sit back and watch you commit suicide."_

"_I'm trying to see what the big deal is, Sam."_

"_I don't want you to forget me."_

_She snorts. "I don't think I could after all we've been through."_

_He smiles sadly. "Unfortunately, there's no choice in the matter."_

_Mercedes frowns at him. "You know I don't like it when you talk in riddles. If there's a point to be made, please get to it quickly."_

"_If I chose to be in your world, we can't go back to this one. It'll vanish in your mind."_

"_Meaning…?"_

_Sam squeezed Mercedes' hand. "We won't recognize the other, and that means there's a chance that we may never even talk to each other because we'll be strangers. Meaning that we'd take the chance of never being in love."_

"_You'll probably just fall in love with Quinn." Mercedes said nastily. _

"_Actually, that's the thing." Sam shifted around, "We won't fall in love unless it's with each other."_

_Mercedes was silent for a moment. "Is that the only option we have, I mean; is there a better way around this?" She asked._

"_Well, there are two: If I am able to become stronger in reality … then when I leave this world, I'll have left a strong impression."_

"_So I'll remember you then?" Mercedes added, hopefully._

"_No."_

"_But—"_

"_I'll remember _you. _No matter what happens, you won't have any recollection of the other world. It was never meant to be that way. We're Promised to each other, but you're still human. You're not physically or mentally equipped to handle two dimensions blurring together. It would kill you." He stopped to look away, unsure if this is how he wanted to tell her._

_Mercedes sat up, panicking. "That would mean that I'm dying now, right?"_

_Samuel nodded despondently. "Your mental stability is weakening. But I had no choice. You almost had a heart attack until I finally decided to intervene."_

"_But you said that you had _just_ found me then!" _

"_I had. I've been Reaching for you for a while, but that near death experience gave me the push I needed. I could always see you, though."_

"_I don't understand Sam. I don't understand any of this." She admitted._

"_Honestly?" I started, "You don't have to. Look, I just need about two more days to be at my full strength in your world, and then you can decide which one you want me to be in."_

"_How are you getter stronger?" Mercedes asked curiously._

"_By avoiding you and meditating every chance I can get."_

"_So you _are ignoring me!"

"Avoiding, _not ignoring. I noticed you before I walked in that glee club." He squeezes her hand lovingly. _

_She knows he can't tell, but she was blushing. "Oh."_

"_What's the other option?" Mercedes asked after another peaceful silence._

"_You could stay here," He said, "And I'd be elated. But you'd be with me forever. You would die, so to speak. You can't take your family to this world because it belongs to us alone."  
_

"_What do you mean, 'die so to speak'?" _

"_Your mind can't handle all the pressure, and your brain would stop functioning. But you wouldn't feel it; you would just stay as you are."_

"_I don't like the thought of that."_

"_I didn't think you would." He replied. _

_She gazed at him questioningly. "Do you want me to stay here with you?"_

"_Well," He said, "I'd be lying if I said that staying like this isn't less of a hassle, but I know what you want. And typically, anything worth having you have to fight for. So that's why I'm trying to get stronger."_

"_That's nice."_

_He snorted. "Considering that I'm slowly killing you? It's the least I can do."_

"_Killing me _softly,_ though." She corrected. "Besides, I was sort of doing that to myself too, remember?"_

"_I still don't understand why you do it." He mused. _

"_It makes me feel better, and after everything I go through in one day, it feels nice to just _feel better._" She said, defending herself. _

"_Disagreeing would make me a hypocrite, but I still can't help myself."_

"_I know. But I love you for that."_

_He grinned suggestively. "Not just my good looks, hmm?"_

_Mercedes smiled. He was unapologetically beautiful. "Good looks? Where?" _

_He frowned. "You're cutting me to the white meat, Cedes."_

_She bit back laughter. "But you're _already _white Sam."_

_His frown deepened. She stopped trying to hold in her mirth. _

"_I guess I walked right into that one." _

"_You always do." She agreed._

* * *

Mercedes woke up from her nap shortly after, and tried to find her bearings. What Sam said made a lot of sense, and still, she had many more questions for him. Not only that, but he was right: her mind had been pretty foggy lately. She could guess that her weakening mental stability had started whenever she started seeing dream Sam wherever she went. Closing her eyes and opening them made no difference.

And it was all so scary, knowing that there was more to life than just what is in front of you. It was terrifying that she had tapped into something greater than she could have ever fathomed. But she didn't want it to end.

Before Sam Mercedes was a shell of the girl she had once known, more of an imitation than an actuality. After Sam, yes she was consistently tired and cranky, and yes she had stopped purging (for the most part), but she was happy. Happier than she had ever been in her whole life.

Mercedes was riskily in love. Her love for Sam was urgent, and impatient. With Sam, Mercedes felt unleashed. And she loved every second of it.

But she was scared for when he became a part of her reality and only that. Mercedes was a doubtful girl, and couldn't quite shake the foreboding feeling of disaster ahead.

Because really, nothing worth having ever comes easy.

* * *

**Alright, obviously shorter chapters with faster updates have won over everything else, so here you go. **

**I decided to make this chapter sweet because it probably won't be after this… **

**If you have the craving for my writing in a different perspective, I'd read **_**Steadily Breaking Down, **_**if you already haven't. It's in first person, and that's probably what I'll update next. #shameless plug**

**Please review!**


	4. Attitude

**It feels so sweet**

**But it's just not real**

**Oh baby it's just a sweet fantasy**

**I'm so deep in my daydreams**

**But it's just a sweet, sweet fantasy baby…**

* * *

The rest of the day for Mercedes goes by in a blur. She doesn't see Sam at all after her daydream, and honestly she's okay with that. Every time she tries to think about how she's going steadily insane, paired with how she'll soon forget why she became that way makes her chest cramp.

She doesn't regret one minute she spent with him in the comfort of her mind. She never could.

But Mercedes is worried, and she can't escape that truth. Everything was easy and perfect in her head, nothing to worry about, nothing to protect. But now that she decided she wanted him with her in front of her eyelids, everything she worked so hard for could easily be ripped away. The odds weren't in her favor.

They still had to try.

Mercedes tried to distract herself with mundane things: School, family, glee. But school reminded herself of Sam, and family couldn't make her forget that if hers was actually supportive, Sam wouldn't be so involved in her life. And glee club was just stupid. She didn't care about it anymore. She really didn't.

Sam was everywhere. In her hands, her eyes, her mind, her taste buds, the pillow on her bed. She couldn't, and didn't want to escape him. Mercedes was completely enraptured and she was well aware of it. He was a great diversion from everyday life.

It was easy to pretend to care about her mom and dad fighting when she had her life waiting for her in her dreams. With Sam in her _being _it was easy to forget her daily life. Mercedes smiled more, laughed to herself, and felt the urge to divulge in the most girlish things.

Nobody understood it. Kurt tired of asking her why she smiled liked a fool for no reason. She knew it pissed him off, but she took small pleasure in seeing him squirm when she told him the truth.

_I'm losing my mind, is all. _

The spinning in her head and rapid beating in her chest was more than confirmation of this fact. She knew her mind was vanishing, she knew all along. But she didn't care to be completely honest. Her life wasn't worth living before the fact anyway. If she had to lose her mind a thousand times in order to have one night with Sam, she'd take the deal every time.

Her biggest issue was realizing that her mind might be gone before he could really be with her. He might know a lot of things, but he didn't know what she was capable of handling. And she didn't really know either. But she knew she didn't have much time.

Mercedes tried to care.

Maybe she was depressed, and that's why dying didn't scare her. Or maybe she was deranged and couldn't comprehend the severity of their struggle to be with each other. Either way, she was not afraid.

Even as he was softly and slowly killing her, he was the kiss of life.

* * *

After coming home that day, Mercedes tried convincing herself to eat something. Sam wouldn't want her starving and vomiting all the time. She managed to eat an apple.

As she chewed, she mused that her mind was gone long before Sam's arrival. It had to be. Chalking her mental issues up to an eating disorder was too tame. She knew what was wrong. Being ignored and treated like a second thought her whole life did the job of stealing her sanity away. Her hands shook, but she was too indifferent at this point to cry anymore.

Mercedes knew she didn't have much time. She didn't want her last moments of life to be stolen by thoughts of her past. It didn't matter anymore.

At six in the evening, her thoughts wandered to picking a song of the week. As dumb as it was, singing was her life before Sam. It could still be a part of it. She tried thinking of songs to sing that week that screamed attitude.

Contrary to popular belief, her idol wasn't Beyoncé.

Not because she didn't like her, or anything like that. Mercedes pretended to have the confidence of the sassy woman in the comfort of her bedroom alone, but she didn't idolize her. Probably because she was nothing like Beyoncé. She was resigned, and quiet. She didn't command people's attention and maintained it, she was a wallflower. Maybe she could be like Beyoncé in another life. But not this one.

This week, for once, she would try. Because no other artist she admired had her attitude.

Mercedes carried herself to the piano room and disappeared into the keys. Her voice was low and husky from lack of use and her rendition of the song was different to a great extent, but she sort of like it. She contemplated if Sam would like it. Even though she knew if she sang a textbook he'd adore it.

He adored her. And that's why she kept singing.

_Remember those walls I built?_

_Well, baby they're tumbling down_

_And they didn't even put up a fight_

_They didn't even make a sound_

_I found a way to let you in_

_But, I never really had a doubt_

_Standing in the light of your halo_

_I got my angel now_

Her fingers took a life of their own when she played piano, and she marveled at how easily everything fell away when she lost herself in this room, this music. Her lips quirked and she got the distinct feeling that she wasn't alone, but she articulated that it was probably Sam, lingering somewhere and smiling.

She loved him desperately. Dangerously.

Perhaps she had become a little diva, but she couldn't help but think that her version of _Halo _was better. Probably because her love was ethereal and there was no way Beyoncé's could be. She knew she had something no one else had and it made her a snob of sorts. Mercedes still smiled at this small fact.

_Hit me like a ray of sun_

_Burning through my darkest night_

_You're the only one that I want_

_Think I'm addicted to your light_

_I swore I'd never fall again_

_But this don't even feel like falling_

_Gravity can't forget to pull me back to the ground again_

She thought she was alone when she finished. Her fingers lazily played the keys, plucking out the most melodious notes. The smile on her face was splitting her lip and making her taste blood. _I'm going insane._

"Mercedes." It didn't sound like her mother, so she chanced a peek at the threshold.

Out of everyone she had suspected to be in her house, she didn't think it would be Rachel. Kurt came to her mind, but she brushed the thought away. She didn't care about those people anymore. It scared her how little she cared about anything anymore. She might've cared if Sam were with her. Now she was sure the smile of her face was mad.

"I'm not sure I understand why you're here." Mercedes started, looking at Rachel completely now.

"I…we…I don't know." Rachel replied.

"_You don't know?" _ Mercedes asked, trying the words out in her mind. _And who is we?_ It didn't make sense, she concluded.

"I mean, yes I do know. I just… don't know how to broach the subject."

"Okay." Mercedes felt her interest vanish away with the word. If Rachel was going to talk in riddles, than that was fine by her.

"Just leave then." She said, finishing the rest of her thought out loud.

"I can't." Rachel finally admitted, looking and sounding lost.

"Why not?"

"Because you're scaring people Mercedes."

Mercedes felt her eyebrows furrow. "What does that have to do with you bothering me?"

Rachel sighed, walking into the room like she was afraid of what Mercedes might do. "Don't get mad, but you've been acting a bit… off lately."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have Kurt completely worried sick, Mercedes." Rachel says, like she's trying to explain something to a child.

Mercedes sits and stares at the keys as she plucked them, thinking about Kurt being upset over her; trying to gage if it makes her feel anything.

"Well, say something!" Rachel exclaims, temporarily losing her calm manner with Mercedes. She couldn't help her anger anymore though. Everyone in glee was silently worrying about this crazy girl and the moment she says something about it the girl won't stop playing her damn piano.

"I'm trying to figure out if I should care or not."

Rachel is lost for words.

Mercedes smiles at her, or something in the distance. She's not sure.

"You may not know this Berry, but I don't really care about Kurt anymore. He doesn't care about me so it's only fair that I feel likewise. Yes, he may very well be worried, but not worried enough to be an adult about it and seek me out himself. I don't think I ever told you this, but I don't like you very much. Honestly, I don't like you at all." Mercedes hears Rachel faintly gasp and she smiles.

"Now, you probably don't understand the concept of someone not adoring the air you breathe, so I'll put this in simplest terms. On behalf of my feelings regarding you, Kurt, and the rest of glee club: Fuck off." Mercedes raised herself off the piano bench and walked past Rachel, headed straight to her room.

"Now please, get out of my house."

Mercedes pondered momentarily, as she heard Rachel's sob and her front door slamming, that this is what having an attitude is like. She finally got it.

* * *

**I didn't really bother to proof read, so sorry for any mistakes. Please review! And thank you to everyone that did last time!**


	5. Sweeter than Sweet

**Images of rapture**

**Creep into me slowly**

**As you're going to my head**

**And my heart beats faster**

**When you take me over**

**Time and time and time again…**

* * *

Mercedes was sick. Sam was well aware of this fact. But he didn't know what else he could do. He knew already that he was risking his ass trying to subsist in Mercedes' world, but he wasn't going to let her just kill herself. Which she was on the verge of doing before he stepped in.

Why Mercedes couldn't see how beautiful she was, was honestly beyond Sam. Samuel was a man from a place where inner beauty outshone everything else, and then one would look to the outer shell to see how healthy that person was. Period. Not to say that he hadn't been caught ogling that glorious backside. He was a man, after all.

But healthy was something Mercedes wasn't. He'd spent his entire existence Reaching for his Promised One and once he'd finally got to her, he was enraged that he had to sit back and watch her hate herself. It was ridiculous. So if he came on a bit overbearing and possessive—who could blame him?

The others would destroy him if they knew what Sam was trying to do. Elites weren't supposed to give up their abilities to become human. The humans weren't supposed to have a choice. Once an Elite made themselves known to whom they were Promised, than that was it. The other human was to give up their mind and become one with their Promise. Or chose to never fall in love.

This was typically not a bad thing, because by the usual time an Elite found their Promised One, that woman or man was already old in age. At that point they always decided to live in their mind forever, and dying was just an afterthought. But Sam was different. And Mercedes was too.

Samuel would've been perfectly content in watching Mercedes grow old and stay young at heart, but he couldn't watch her kill herself. Life was already doing that, so why sit and wait for her to make it quicker? She didn't deserve that demise. No one did.

Another Elite—Mark—told him to calm down. That sometimes it happens. Doesn't mean him and Mercedes wouldn't meet, it meant that if had to be on God's terms. Sam didn't want to wait for that, and Mercedes deserved a full life. She deserved to be happy in life, as well as death. She didn't deserve to be alone.

So he interfered. As Mercedes got up to purge her last time, Sam couldn't bear it any longer. He saw her heart beating like a hummingbird's wings, saw her body shutting down. Anticipated her esophagus rupturing, but at least it was going to come after the heart attack. In theory, for a teenager that suffered with an eating disorder for six years, this was an okay way to go. She wouldn't know what hit her.

Samuel delayed her imminent death. His love for her pushed him into her mind. It distracted her body long enough for him to fix it. And he made sure to restore her thinning abdominal walls. Unfortunately, her mind was still vulnerable, and he can't do anything about it. He gave her a choice. Die with him in her mind or on earth. He just didn't put it that way.

She chose life and death on earth. It was fine by him, but now he had to work twice as hard to not get caught and make it work for Mercedes. Because that's what she wanted, and also because he loved her. Sam treasured her so much he was sure she didn't fully understand it. As soon as he was strong enough on earth he'd make sure she got the full force of his affection.

Samuel implanted himself into a family that doesn't remember how he got there. The Evans family looked enough like him to not be too farfetched, and as far as they know Sam is their oldest child. The rest of the family knows the same.

Once Sam got his bearings on earth he had a hard time dealing with all the setbacks of being sort-of-human. First, the body can't deal with most of his power—so he had to modify it a bit. Second, the human mind doesn't understand most simple things. Like being an Elite. Oddly a human brain can't really delve into most common thoughts that being Elite brings.

Third—and this one was truly a curse—_hormones. _He knew humans had them, as he learned and heard from the others—the Elites that were older, and already had their Promised Ones—but this was past anything he'd ever comprehend. Hormones were bad, especially bad at the seventeen years of age his body had on earth.

Now, Sam always wanted Mercedes. He was a _man, _and a man's needs would never change. But he never imagined that it could be so intense. Mercedes thinks the first time he saw her was in the choir room. She was very wrong.

The first time Sam saw Mercedes, it was a train wreck. He thought that after he was settled in his new body he might as well go check up on her. He almost wishes he didn't. She was in her pj's when he first saw her as a human. The only thing Samuel has ever seen Mercedes wear is a modest white sundress in her daydreams. But when he saw her, walking around outside in her backyard in nothing but a t-shirt and pajama shorts, with endearing bunny slippers—he had to leave. It was too much.

He never appreciated how soft and plush her legs were—her thighs, more specifically—or that her curves lead a path up to delicious looking breasts, or down to a behind he didn't like anyone else seeing. Sam was truly in pain the first time he saw her. And her _hair_—good God, it was longer and curlier than he's ever seen it. It reached somewhere in the middle of that curvy back and all he wanted to do was lose his hands in it. Those black waves and that backside and her lush _thighs, _it was all he could do.

Sam was glad he never saw her face completely or her chocolate eyes he envisioned that day. He wasn't sure if she would've survived that encounter as a virgin or not. But probably not.

Not to say that he would take that away from her, but he knew she'd give it. Not because she was loose, but because she loved him. And he loved her in return with a passion that only intensified on earth.

The day he finally saw her in the choir and they finally met with their eyes, he had to look away quickly. Because her face was unearthly and her eyes were his undoing. She was gorgeous. He tried not to look at the V-neck she was wearing. It was hard trying not to stare, hell, _everything _was hard.

And she thought he wanted Quinn. It was a laughable idea that she even entertained the thought. Her love was must be blind when it came to him, really.

Samuel thought that when she took a nap and landed back with him in their world that day he would surely rip her clothing to shreds the moment he saw her. But he didn't. His desire calmed down in her thoughts. She was still beautiful, but it didn't drive him insane on earth like it did in her dreams. Part of him wished she chose to live with him in her thoughts because it was much easier to pay attention to her there. But his love always got what she wanted.

Unfortunately he was going to have to make her fall in love with him again once he was at his full strength. Hopefully it worked out as planned.

That night when Mercedes dreamed, he made sure to remind her of this fact.

* * *

"_I want you to be very open minded to the idea that it may take a long time for us to meet up again." He said, stroking her sides._

_She turned around in his arms and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I don't think that'll happen. Just be nice to me and sweet like you are and I'll swoon within the week."_

_Sam chuckled and tightened his hold on her. They were up alongside a tree, her in between his legs leaning against him and him against the tree. His arms were wrapped around her and just below the curve of her breasts. The idea was distracting him. _

_Since he had about a day until their mental bond would break and he would be on earth as a human for a lifetime, his thoughts were more human here than they've ever been. He stroked her sides down until his hands rested on her waist. This was honestly the most intimate touch they've ever shared. Mercedes shivered._

"_Are you cold?" Sam teased, kissing a spot right below her ear._

_She made a small keening noise and shook her head. "No, I'm fine."_

"_Are you sure?" He asked, grabbing her hips and kissing a trail down to her neck, "I can warm you up."_

_Sam knew he was pushing it. But she'd better be happy his thoughts weren't completely human or she would've been pinned underneath him by now. _

"_Uh…S-Sam?" She turned to stare at him, finding his eyes the darkest she's ever seen them._

_He swooped down and captured her lower lip that had started to tremble and nipped it with his teeth. He soothed the pinch with his tongue, and Mercedes could only moan beneath his attention. He sucked that plump lip until it was swollen and he found she looked even better kissed senseless._

_Mercedes turned around until she had to straddle him in order to keep up with his kisses. Sam laid her down before she felt his need under her. _

"_Sam?" Mercedes breathed, trying to find her bearings as Sam started manipulating her neck with his mouth again._

"_Hmm?" He hummed, placing an openmouthed kiss on her throat. Mercedes gulped._

"_I've never…didn't think…I thought— oh _God_…" _

"_What did you think, baby?" He asked. "That I didn't want you like this?"_

_At the look of embarrassment in her eyes, Sam pressed his hardness down into her hips, hoping she'd understand that his love extended in all directions. Not knowing how this position would make his predicament worse, he shook with pleasure. "Oh God Mercy…I don't think you understand."_

_She gasped at the feel of him against her, pressing her into the soft ground beneath her and awakening all of her senses. "It's just that no one…mmm…" He nibbled on her earlobe, stopping the ludicrous words from coming out of that pretty mouth._

"_Please Sam, you're teasing me. I can't…think when you do this." _

_He knew he was. She deserved it after all the torture she's put him through. He reached a hand up and kneaded her breast, eliciting the loudest moan he's ever heard come from her mouth. It filled him with devastating want. He sobbed. He grinded his hips into hers again, bringing another loud moan from Mercedes' delicious mouth. He kissed it._

"_You don't get it, Mercy. Its worse on earth…I don't think I'll be able to control myself the next time I see you. You're too beautiful, too soft. You smell like heaven and it's making me crazy."_

_Mercedes moaned and looked away. Sam nibbled on her neck until she moved her head to stop him._

"_I want you Sam." Her eyes were molten brown. _

_He shook at the words, because he wanted her so bad it was hindering all other thoughts he had of getting caught by Elites and the fact he was slowly killing her. _

"_I love you." He replied. _

_Sam grinded his hips down into her plush body until she was crying below him to touch her. Her nails scratched his biceps and her chest was rising and falling sporadically. He kissed the cleavage peaking up from that damn sundress he wished she wasn't wearing and his hand crept up her skirt. _

_Mercedes parted her legs and mewled beautifully. "Please Sammy…I don't know how much more I can—Oh _**Sam!**_"_

_He was stroking her heated folds through her panties, and stars were dancing behind her eyes. She keened loud and long, and writhed beneath him. Sam realized that he would do anything to see her like this every day of his human life. He played with the fabric until it was soaked and Mercedes' eyes were black and fogged. Her breath was hitched and was without rhythm._

"_Oh God…" Her voice was low and husky. Just like he loved it most._

"_Mercy," He started, "What do you want?"_

_Sam knew damn well what _he _wanted, and by her bucking and moaning, he could guess she wanted the same. _

"_I c-can't…think…" She rotated her hips to his caresses. "Mmmm…this feels…"_

_He was eager for her to say it. "You like it when I stroke you?"_

_She nodded, grabbing onto his shoulders. _

"_Say it baby, say you like it when Sam strokes you." He was turning into a lust-driven psychopath over this woman._

"_I _love _it when you…" She moaned particularly loud as Sam started to rub her in hard circles. "Oh Sammy…I can't…please…"_

"_Are you gonna come, baby? I haven't even touched your skin yet…" His dick was hard enough to chop a tree in half. Sam could smell Mercedes' pleasure and it made him go cross-eyed. _

"_I don't think…I can't last…" Mercedes was almost at the point just beyond the sunset, and she need Sam to bring her there, or she was going to go insane. _

"_I want to taste you." Samuel said. Mercedes cried out for him._

_Sam pushed her panties to the side to dip his fingers into her heat. He massaged the flesh, feeling it throb beneath his attention. Mercedes bit her lip so hard it drew blood. She wanted for this to last forever, but this was her first time being touched intimately and Sam was too good._

_Just as Sam stroked her clit stars exploded behind her eyelids. Her lips parted and she made sure Sam heard her appreciation loud and clear. She said his name like it was a prayer and felt tears form in her eyes. She didn't notice Sam sucking his fingers dry and him eyeing her pelvis longingly. _

_Sam was kissing her back down to their world, and smiled at her afterglow. "I barely got started with you baby." _

"_I think I'm done in, Sammy."_

_He nodded. "I know, but next time I'm not going to let up for a while. I don't think I'll be able to."_

"_I love you Sam." Mercedes said, smiling up at him._

"_I love you too. Now get some rest, tomorrow's going to be a big day for us."_

* * *

**I didn't proof read…**

**Did you like the Samcedes sexy times? I'm really nervous about it because I don't typically write smutty stuff. Was it bad? **

**Thank you to everyone who supports this story! I love every last one of you, so thank you from the bottom of my heart!**

**And please review!**


	6. Subtle Invitation

**You're like the kiss of life**

**Beaming in the sky**

**Boy you're just a fantasy**

**You come into my dream**

**But you're just a fantasy…**

* * *

Mercedes woke in a haze. She thought she woke up, but she couldn't tell. Everything was still dark. It was times like these when she wished she had a bedside clock that could reassure her what time it was, so she didn't have to search in the dark for her phone like she was doing now.

Mercedes rose from her sitting position and started crawling around her bed. She had a tendency to kick things in her sleep, and this time her cell phone was no exception. Mercedes felt her phone somewhere near the edge of her bed and grasped for it before realizing someone else's hand was grasping it, too.

Her mouth opened to scream, and in return a pale hand clasped over her mouth. She followed the pale hand with her eyes up to its owner and saw Sam Evans looking at her apprehensively.

"Sam…?" She tried to say, but it came out muffled behind his hand.

Mercedes saw Sam sigh in relief before removing his hand. "Mercy, I thought you were gonna blow my cover for a second."

She shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do when a stranger has his hand around my phone?"

"I'm not a stranger." Sam replied, "Not yet, anyway."

Instantaneously Mercedes was reminded of the impending doom that approached them, and was worried to say the least. Even if her body was still humming from Sam's gentle touch somewhere far removed from the evil of earth, here they stood. It made Mercedes regret her decision, and deep down she hoped Sam didn't mutually agree with her.

"How'd you even get in here?"

"Oh," Samuel smiled. "The window."

Mercedes looked over to her window and shook her head. "No way Sam, that window's always locked and shut."

"So? Do you _honestly_ think that can stop me?"

She was prompted, again, by the fact that her Promised One was not human. No matter how much he appeared so. "That's rude."

He laughed. "Did you want me to ring the doorbell instead?"

"Don't play with me, you butt."

"Sorry. I figured I might as well dampen the mood of potential disaster."

She frowned and moved over on her bed to accommodate her company. Sam stayed standing, looking distraught. "So, why are you here?" She whispered.

"Well, things have been moved up in the schedule due to—concerns."

"What concerns?"

Sam shrugged and looked away. "Don't worry about it."

"Sam." Mercedes didn't feel like arguing with him, but she wasn't going to be shielded from all the facts of his existence in this life. Especially if it concerned their relationship—it was already fragile, she didn't need to be ignorant in love, too.

"If I'm going to forget all this within the next few hours, why save face now?" She argued.

"If you're going to forget everything about this in the next few hours, why do you want to _know_ _now_?" He answered. "You need to have a clear head in this procedure, Mercy. Your mind's unstable enough without the other drama. Please just let that go now." Sam sounded desperate, and he looked stressed out.

Mercedes felt bad, but not bad enough to drop to drop the subject. She deliberated the situation to herself for a moment before forming an idea to get him to divulge some information. She remembered he said that his attraction for her was intensified on earth…

"_You don't get it, Mercy. Its worse on earth…I don't think I'll be able to control myself…"_

She shivered from the memory before opening her arms in a peace offering. "Come here Sam, you look like you need a cuddle."

Mercedes caught him staring. At the sight of her wearing a loose night shirt and nothing else—that he could see, at least—Sam blanched. She bit her lip and moved her long curly hair to one side of her neck, exposing her right shoulder.

"Sam, I won't bite. I'm a good girl, _unless you want me to—"_

He interrupted her by sitting down and placing a hand on her knee. He was _so_ warm. Mercedes grabbed the warm hand and tried tugging him into her arms. Part of it was seducing—and the other part, the needy Mercedes part, just honestly wanted to be wrapped around him again.

Somewhere, somewhere _deep down—_even past the throbbing ache to have him with her—she knew what she was starting might have no return. She knew that seducing Samuel's hormone driven body and mind into her bed with open arms would probably leave her less virtuous than how the night began. But right now Mercedes didn't care. He wanted it, she still wanted it, and in process she was going to be divulged in information she needed. It was a win-win situation.

Sam stopped fighting her internally and gave in to her not-so-subtle invitation to cuddle. "You're going to kill me, Mercy."

She smirked as he lied down and took the chance to lie on top of him. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed circles into the small of her back. Mercedes sighed contently. She grasped at his t-shirt covered chest.

"That's my line Sam."

He chuckled until Mercedes started zigzag her fingers up and down his torso lazily. His chuckle turned into something of a growl. "Mercedes."

"What?" Mercedes breathed onto the skin of his neck, placing a moist kiss on his neck.

"We don't…I can't concentrate."

"It's okay." Mercedes replied, rising up to look in his eyes. His eyes were _that _dark green again. "I just want to be with you. Don't you?"

Sam's face was strained.

Mercedes eyes narrowed. "Do you want to be with me?"

"It's all I've ever wanted."

"Then don't think. You don't have to." Mercedes rose up completely and straddled him down to her bed. In this position, Sam turned rigid. He grabbed her hips to still anymore sudden movements.

"Mercedes," He warned. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"I promise to finish." She said. He looked away.

"Mercy, I'm serious…you…you still don't understand."

She thought she did. She knew this was too much for him. Her straddling him and smiling down at him—it was overwhelming. And the only reason she knew it was overwhelming was because it was tantalizing _her_, too. Mercedes might be talking big game right now—but her heart was still beating precipitously.

"What? That you _want me_? I want you _too _Sam. You're not alone in this."

He shook his head. "I want you more than you think. I think I want you more than humanly possible…it _hurts…_" He rasped.

"I can help you, if you just tell me what to do…" She offered, reaching down to lose her hands underneath his shirt.

"Sammy?"

He shakily gasped in reply.

"I can finish anything I start with you. I'm not scared, I'm not insecure, and I'm not in doubt. I'm very confident with what we have, and I thought you were too?" One hand was squeezing at his muscled chest; the other was playing with one of his pecks. Mercedes' hands were trembling. It was hard to tell what he liked most, everything made him gasp.

"Mercedes if you don't stop—"

"All my love's for you." She interrupted, "I'll give you _anything_ you want…I'm not gonna tell you to stop; you can have all of me…you can take me right here…" She pushed his shirt up to his shoulders and leaned down to kiss his chest gently.

"I want you so much." Sam moaned.

"You can have me." She replied.

Sam was acting like a caged lion at this point. Mercedes knew if she let up now—if she let him, more specifically—he was going to devour her. It was an overpowering thought, and she it made her dizzy with want. She had to know a few things now though. She could play later.

"Tell me something?" She asked, her lips still close to his heart.

Sam snatched his shirt completely off his body before lying back down and grasping at her nightshirt, bunching the material in his hands. Mercedes shook knowing she had a matter of moments before all words were going to be of more sounds than anything else.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" His voice was ragged.

"Why were you so concerned earlier?"

"Because," He started, raising her nightshirt up to her shoulder blades and running a hand down her bare back. "_Fuck, _are you not wearing a bra? Uh, other Elites are getting suspicious of me—us—and we don't have much time until—is that _lace? _God Mercy, you're so _sexy…" _Sam was playing with her lace panties, dipping his fingers into the waistband and snapping the fabric back to her hips.

"What are Elites? What are you talking—oh!" He had managed to take her nightshirt off completely and had her flipped over on her back within his last sentence.

"_Wow…" _Sam's voice was a stunned and husky as he was looking down at her bare chest in something like awe. Mercedes shook and felt her body heat up considerably.

"You're beautiful…" He reached down to her breast and felt her arch into his hand as he kneaded her breast. Mercedes knew he was watching all her movements as she bit her lip and moaned. His lips made their way back to hers in a sensuous kiss that had her throbbing and pressing her thighs together.

"Tell me about the Elites," Mercedes croaked out as his kisses started a hot wet path to her collarbone—and lower. Sam didn't seem to be listening, as his mouth continued down.

"Sam I swear to—Oh my God…" Mercedes knew he'd eventually get to her breast, but she figured she had a least one more moment. His other hand was still manipulating one of her breasts, rubbing the sensitive nub in its center, but his _mouth… _His hot wet mouth was on her breast.

She felt him swirling and lapping at her like it was the last thing he'd do. He moved on to the next mound, enveloping the nipple and suckling. Mercedes' eyes rolled, every tug of his powerful mouth tugged a more powerful ache in between her legs.

He released a nipple from his mouth and looked up at Mercedes. "Do you want to know before or after I'm done with you? Because I swear to _everything _Mercy, I'm going to fuck you into this mattress."

Mercedes couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't formulate a thought…

She closed her eyes and shook her head, not sure how to reply.

"I don't think we have much time…" She managed.

"Shh…" Maybe by now Samuel realized that Mercedes was putty in his hands. He continued to work her body into a bundle of throbbing nerves, each flick or swirl of his tongue producing a soft moan or a sigh from Mercedes. His breathing is as erratic as hers; he released small groans right after any noise she unconsciously made.

And then her mom was banging on her door asking if she was going to go to school today or not. Flushed and dazed, Mercedes broke away, because she knew at this point Sam didn't care anymore. She ran a shaky hand through her black curly hair.

"Mom—I don't feel well," Sam resorts to kissing her neck in their slight disruption. "I have a terrible migraine. I can't go."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm—" Sam pinched one of her nipples, "positive."

"Do you need to see a doctor? That's the third migraine this week…"

Mercedes sighed happily as Sam rubbed circles her back. "No, I'm just stressed out with school. It's okay. I'll be fine with a little rest."

"If you say so. Your father's already at work, and I'm about to head out. Just don't let anyone in the house." She waited until her mother's footsteps were faded into the distant sounds of carpet.

Mercedes turned to Sam and narrowed her eyes at him. "Sam, if the Elites are suspicious, shouldn't we hurry and break our mental bond?"

"We have all day and if I do it now, you won't want to be with a stranger, will you?"

Mercedes mulled it over in her head. "I guess not…"

Sam smirked. "Just lay down and relax…"

* * *

**I figured you guys deserved a sweet interlude before the real stuff comes in after all the love you sent me last week!**

**If you don't like smutty things and wanted them to get to the mental break, that'll come next week and sorry if this chapter was a disappointment! But either way—**

**Please review!**


	7. Don't Forget

**Seeing things that I know can't be**

**Am I dreaming? When I saw you walking past me**

**Almost called your name**

**Got a better glimpse and then I looked away**

**It's like I'm losing it…**

* * *

Mercedes was about to lay down, before another thought popped into her head. "But Sam, this seems a bit thoughtless. People are after you—us, more specifically—and you want to—"

"Fuck? Yeah Mercy, I want to fuck you. Is that surprising? I thought I've made myself pretty obvious in how I've felt. I'll always want you—whether you know me or not."

Mercedes chanced a look at Sam. His eyes were liquid emerald. It stole Mercedes' breath. His hands were trembling on each side of her waist. She shakily inhaled, making her breasts jiggle from the moment. At the sight, Sam gulped in multiple breaths of air. He looked like a starved animal, like she was the only thing on this earth that could satiate his thirst—his hunger. Like she—her body, her love—was the only person that could make him breathe properly again. Then she finally started to realize how much Sam wanted her. And again—he said he wanted her more than she thought.

She looked away. Despite what she said about not being insecure—she was. And if she still felt uncertain, certainly Sam knew this? Mercedes gazed at him, and came to terms that maybe he didn't. Maybe he was so focused on her that he didn't realize how afraid she truly was.

"Sam I don't think you should be so intent on having me now. What if…" She pushed past her fears, "What if someone finds us? What if one of those, what did you call them—Elites?—what if they come after us and actually _succeed? _Should we really be wasting time like this?"

He smirked. "I don't know about you, but to _me_ this isn't a waste of time. I'll make sure to make it worth your while."

"Sam, _seriously. _Our lives are at stake here! We can find our way back to each other later—when we have time and inhuman beings aren't after us maybe?"

Sam finally dragged his eyes up to Mercedes. "I know the others Mercy. I know them because I used to be_ just like them_. Sometimes I still think like them. We have time, baby, just not as much as I was hoping for."

Mercedes felt her resolve slipping. She tried her last hand at bringing logic back into their situation. "What if…what if…you don't like it? What if we do this, and you realize you never wanted me as much as you thought you did? I don't want you to regret your decision."

Sam had Mercedes pinned to the bed before she could open her mouth to say anything else. He glowered down at her and shook his head. Samuel leaned down and nuzzled her neck, willing her to submit to him already. He whispered his next words into her neck, and eventually moved up to her ear. "When this mental break happens, I'm gonna want you afterwards when you wake up. When you go to school the next day and go to glee club thinking no one notices you—I will. I'll notice you and adore you from a far because strangers aren't supposed to be in love with strangers. When you sing on that auditorium stage and think no one appreciates it—I will. When you go to sleep tomorrow night wearing a shirt that smells like me and feels like my hands, I'll want you. I'll always want you."

"Can we…can't we just talk about this first?"

Sam shrugged. "I have nothing else to say."

Mercedes felt frozen between her man and her thoughts. "It's just—I love you."

She could feel him smiling into her neck. "I love you more." He said.

"No, I mean…I just, I love you."

"I know that."

"And," Mercedes went on, "You're the only thing that makes me feel alive."

"…Cedes?" He asked uncertainly.

She relished in the feeling of being pressed up against her love. "When I was younger, things were simpler. I was happier, and I wasn't so sad all the time. Things made me happier faster and I became depressed quite easily, but it was a simpler time.

"My mom didn't seem so overbearing and my father was around more. Everything was better. Food tasted better, the air was fresher, the skies clearer, and my victories were much larger. Life gets more bland and complicated the older I get. But when I purged—time would stop. Purging made everything stop: My hearing, sight, taste, smell, fears, tears, and at one point—my heart. Everything that made life unbearable faded away from the time I stuck my fingers down my throat 'till the time my feet hit the scale. Life was okay. It was an anesthetic. It still is.

"I could've made the job easier and just killed myself. But I'm strong, so I'm not taking the easy way out. I purge. I love it, and I don't want to stop. But then you showed up in my life. You made me forget how I used to half ass live when you weren't around. You make me feel young again.

"Isn't that weird? I'm seventeen and I need to feel young? But you do it. I feel like life's simple again. You make miracles seem attainable when I'm with you. Life is worth living. And I—I don't know how I'll be able to live without you again. Now that I know what it's like to be alive. I think—Sam I honestly believe—if I have to try and make it alone, I'll die. Surely I'll die. And that's why I'm so afraid now. Because I feel old and without you I'll be truly alone again. I might kill myself because I'll be so depressed and not understand why. I need you."

Sam stopped his ogling at her chest and sat up. She knew she may have ruined the moment, but he had to know. It wasn't about the sex—it was about her happiness being ripped away from her afterwards. She didn't want to be happy just to go right back to being depressed and not knowing why. She was afraid of what she might do. Sam was silent.

"I want to remember who I lost my virginity to, Sam." Mercedes said, "I want to live every day of my life afterwards knowing that I'll be made love to whenever I want. Because I'm loved, and because someone genuinely wants me for the first time. If I have to see you with Quinn again…I'll fall apart."

Sam wrapped his arms around Mercedes and pulled her into an embrace. She hiccupped with her unshed tears and pressed her face against his chest, needing to feel his heartbeat. "Baby, how do you think _I _would feel knowing the woman I just made love to didn't remember me?"

Mercedes sniffled in reply. "Can we just—can we just get it done now? I feel like I love you more every time you say something."

Sam rubbed her bare back. "I'm not ready to let this go yet."

She looked up at the honesty of his words, and being aware that he was still hard against her stomach-she knew what she _could _do. She finally understood. Mercedes could give him something, but he couldn't take anything from her at this point. Even though she honestly wanted him—she wanted to feel pressed between his hard chest and her soft bed, and anywhere else he'd have her—it would kill her if she had to live without him afterwards. It wasn't right. But she could give him something to remember.

Mercedes reluctantly pulled away from him. She rose up and softly kissed him until she was breathless. Her kisses were insistent and needy, as they always were, but this time they weren't misleading. "Lay down, Sam."

He was caught up between confusion and lust, Mercedes knew that because of the way he looked—dazed, hard and tense everywhere, and his eyes would never fool her. But he obeyed, even though he didn't know what her intentions were, because he loved her. Sam loved her more than honest reasoning would allow. That's why she _had _to give him something.

Mercedes ran her hand down his chest to the waistband of his jeans. "Do you still want me? Even now?"

Sam nodded. Her fingers made use of unbuckling his belt.

"But I—you just said…" He croaked as she unbuttoned his pants.

"Shh, this has nothing to do with me right now. Only you."

He looked torn between wanting to argue and curiosity. "What are you going to do to—to me?"

Mercedes smiled and pulled his jeans down slowly, loving the sensation of being in charge of this otherworldly man under her. It was intoxicating.

"Mercedes, please I—"He kicked his pants the rest of the way off, despite his objections.

"Tell me Sam," Mercedes started, "Do you still want me?"

Sam just stared at Mercedes and opened his mouth to speak before breaking off in a hoarse whisper. She was tracing his bulge with her cold fingertips. She had never seen a male's private parts up close, and this was intriguing for her. She didn't know how to judge it—as this was her first—but she could guess his thickness and size from palming the swelling in his boxers. From what she already knew, he was _hard. _Very hard actually.

"Mer…" He stopped trying to form a sentence. He kissed her abruptly, and sloppily. His lips kissed anything of Mercedes he could find—her shoulders, jaw, lips, it didn't matter.

She grasped him and felt his shoulders tremble. He cursed and assertively grabbed her waist. Mercedes stopped her movements. "Did I, did I hurt you?"

"No, it feels better than I've imagined…you don't understand."

Mercedes glared at his beautiful face. "Make me understand, tell me what you imagined."

He shook at the command. She tilted her head to the side and grabbed for his thickening bulge again and tugged a bit this time.

"_Fuck, Mercedes!"_

She smiled happily. It was the first time he put her full name and an expletive together. She liked how it sounded, and more importantly, how it made her _feel. _The aching was back and in full force.

She tested her and his resolve. "I'll tell you what _I _imagine then. I want—I've dreamed of you taking me in my piano room. On my piano, actually. And you're so sweet…but you don't take me sweetly and I don't want you to. Every time you take me it's not sweet and slow. It's rough—I like it rough in my daydreams, Sam. When I fall in love with you again, will you…will you promise to take me like that?"

His crumbling willpower resounded from under her hands. "Mercedes I—"

"Will you?"

He sighed helplessly. "Yes."

"Can I take these off?" She asked, referring to his last article of clothing.

He mumbled something Mercedes took for a yes. She inched the boxers down, and stopped when she finally saw him. It was strange looking—but strangely beautiful. He was much paler here—and slightly pink. His tip was swollen and pink and glistening with something she had yet to understand. He was large—at least he looked big. She had nothing to compare him to. She reached a hand out to grab his manhood and felt her way around him. He was soft and hard…she moved up and gingerly felt his tip. It was oddly smooth like silk.

Sam moaned deep and low. It felt like a warning. But against what she didn't know.

"What do you want me to do?" Mercedes asked, feeling truly inexperienced for the first time.

"Anything…everything…just," He molded his hand around hers and found a rhythm. "Like that."

She smiled and worked him for a few minutes until she felt the need to speed up. It was instinctual, really. And Sam didn't complain so she kept doing it. She twisted her hand around his shaft and tugged until he was a moaning mess.

"Mercedes stop…I'm gonna…you won't like it…"

"How do you know?" She asked, offended. She loved everything about Sam, so why wouldn't she like this?

He stopped her hand with his own and took a deep breath. "I just need to breathe for a moment."

She relented and pulled away, pouting. "But the point was for you to let go Sam."

He shook his head, and ran a hand threw his blonde muddled hair. "If I…if you make me cum Mercy we're not gonna leave this bed for a while. Because I know how I get with you around…and I'll want more. I can't be satisfied like that baby. I'll want all of you, and to be honest I'll probably take it without asking. I need all of you…and we're not ready for that today."

Mercedes huffed, disappointed. "You just didn't like it, did you?"

"That would be a lie. I _loved _it, Mercy, and I love you. Don't be upset, okay? I'm just trying to stay calm for our sake." He pecked her lips and pulled his boxers up.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed, making her lie down. "It's time."

* * *

Sam developed into a different being right before Mercedes eyes. His eyes smoldered, he had an outer glow shimmering around his body, and he made all other life around them seem insubstantial. He caused everything to dissolve except for them it seemed. He spoke words she didn't comprehend, and then time stood still.

She tried moving her arms but they were frozen. She was frozen; _everything _was frozen except for Sam. Mercedes was suspended between time and whatever Sam had brought them to. He moved around stealthily and with purpose. He draped a cover over her half naked body and sat down beside her frozen form, muttering words like a prayer and making a foreign symbol above her heart. It confused her but she tried to focus on him alone.

He was positively illuminated by the morning light, both here and from something in another dimension. She had a feeling that for the first time reality and her dreamland with Sam blurred together and became one. She loved this feeling, and tried to tell him this, but oddly she couldn't breathe. And at the thought—when she tried to articulate a thought and her head burned.

Mercedes tried, once again, to think of Sam to calm herself down but that only made the flames worse. She was burning from the inside and out—surely Sam felt the flames. Was _he_ burning her? _Something _had set her body and mind aflame and Sam was sitting there like nothing was happening. She tried to gage his reaction. He looked expectant of this, and then sad.

Her lover said a few more weird words and then she couldn't hear anymore. Her vision blurred, and her mind went blank. Mercedes was dying. She knew that this is what dying felt like. Sam was killing her—he was killing her for no reason and she didn't understand why. Sam smiled down at her dying body and shook his head, as if to try and convince her that she wasn't being scorched alive and killed by someone she loved desperately.

Why was Sam doing this to her? What could possibly make him think this was okay? She was being singed from head to toe, dammit! And why wasn't she dead yet? She had to be dying…_something _was dying within her but she didn't know what. Maybe her mind was being killed; it would make sense of the fireworks going off in her head. She was suspended in agony and stuck in internal explosion.

Why was she being treated like this? What was the purpose of this pain? Why was her mind being ripped of something vital? She couldn't remember. Every time she tried to remember what was hurting her and taking her thoughts away her mind felt scalded. Why was she burning again?

Was she even ablaze? Or was Sam just heating something up underneath her…but when she tried to move her mind didn't send the command to her limbs. What the hell was happening? Why couldn't she move…?

And this man, this beautiful creature above her, _Sam, _looked like he was on the verge of tears. Someone so beautiful shouldn't cry. It wasn't right. Mercedes attempted to feel her words to him, because her mind was over-cooked and her lips wouldn't move. All she could do was feel now, but she still tried. _Don't cry…_

She felt like crying as well, for some reason. And this man—what was his name again?—seemed to know it too. Mercedes saw him saying something with those pretty lips, and then he leaned down and kissed her. She felt words being whispered into her lips and they felt familiar. _I love you…_

He loved her? Why? They didn't even know each other and yet…she felt the same way. She felt her mutual agreement to him—whoever he was. Because whoever he was she loved him too, and that was all she knew.

_I love you too…I love you, stranger._

The beautiful man seemed to understand. He nodded and got up from her bed and looked at her one last time. This seemed important, but Mercedes didn't know how.

"Sleep."He said sleep, and she heard it this time! That was good, her ears were working again.

But that was all she would hear, because the room became dark, her eyelids were heavy, and she knew she was asleep before the stranger left her room.

As Mercedes slept, she felt lonely. Like she was missing something, like someone was sleeping beside her and left. She didn't know who would possibly be in her bed and then leave, but someone was and she missed them dearly. But mysteriously she couldn't remember why.

* * *

**I didn't proof read so sorry for any mistakes!**

**Thank you to **_**everyone**_** who reviewed last chapter, you guys really inspired me to keep going. It took the whole week to write this, and I hope I didn't disappoint. **

**Please review!**


	8. Volume II: Back to Reality

**Baby, seems like everywhere I go**

**I see you, from your eyes, your smile**

**It's like I breathe you, helplessly I reminisce**

**Don't want to, compare nobody to you**

* * *

Mercedes woke up the next morning in a daze. She still felt lonely, but the heart-wrenching pain behind the feeling was fading. Her arms wrapped around her body because despite the bright sun shining through her window, she was cold. She wasn't sure what day it was, but could only assume it was a weekday. Why she had suddenly lost her concept of time was beyond her, but she continued to act as normal as she possibly could.

She thought long and hard as she took a shower that morning. Her body was shaking like a leaf and she couldn't understand why. Mercedes felt fine, but her body was betraying her thoughts. The last thing she could recall was Mr. Schue's attitude assignment and a cute blonde coming into her glee club practice one afternoon. She remembered feeling quite jealous of Quinn's connection to him already. What was his name again?

He was cute, whatever his name was. But clearly he was—for lack of a better term—already snatched up by Quinn's five percent discounting hands. And it wasn't surprising to Mercedes in the least. Quinn was beautiful and intelligent, even if she made the mistake of getting knocked up at sixteen. But that cute guy…

The exquisiteness that was the blonde boy made her strangely miserable. Maybe because of the lost potential he was soon to acquire by being Quinn's boyfriend and a fresh member of New Directions. He just didn't know what he was getting himself into—the Finn, Quinn, Rachel love triangle, and even Puck included if he still harbored feelings for Quinn, plus the inevitable slush shower—it was sad. What was weird though, was that she even cared. She barely cared about Kurt, and he was supposed to be her best friend.

That boy and his pretty eyes captivated her—why couldn't she stop thinking about him? They didn't even know each other. Mercedes tried to not think about him and slipped down into her bathtub hopelessly. She sat in her bathtub as the shower head above her pounded hot water onto her head. As she sat there and failed to stop thinking about him, her body began to ache. It throbbed actually. This was embarrassing.

She wasn't going to pretend that the lingering feeling of loneliness didn't scare her. Mercedes knew it was weird. And she wasn't going to ignore how she couldn't remember what happened yesterday or the day before that. She couldn't lie to herself and pretend it didn't scare her. It was terrifying, actually. Something was telling her not to look into it so much.

Mercedes continued to ache in places she wouldn't dare try to understand long after her shower turned cold. She quickly wrapped a towel around her body and got out. As she combed through her curly hair in front of the bathroom mirror, her eyes zoomed in on a peculiar spot on her neck. She abruptly dropped the comb and leaned into her reflection, trying to get a better look. Mercedes was naïve, but she wasn't stupid. The mark on her neck resembled a hickey.

And that made her laugh out loud. No matter what it looked like, it couldn't have been a hickey. There was no way. For Christ's sake she had never been kissed before! Much less done anything so scandalous that a hickey was left behind...yet, her body was trembling at the sight and she felt something tighten in her stomach. God, all this throbbing was making her lose her breath. She fanned herself. Fate was playing a cruel joke.

Mercedes went back and forth between wanting to cover it up and not seeing the need to. What the point? Everyone knew how virginal she was. And even if they didn't know, who was actually paying attention to her? There were better people to look at—Santana, Quinn, Brittany. No one would notice.

Mercedes went back to combing her hair. It seemed like her hair was getting longer. She used to wear extensions back in middle school, and decided to give her hair a break. That break lasted for months and soon became years. It wasn't that Mercedes was a weave hater—she really liked them, actually. Extensions were much easier to deal with then her hair, but after a while it kept growing and growing. Soon her afro like curls calmed down with the weight of her new growth and became something much prettier. She barely wore hair down because of how unmanageable it could be. That, and sometimes it was annoying. So most of the time she braided it down or put it in a bun.

She looked at that weird thing on her neck again. If she kept her hair down, the curls would cover it up for sure. She made the sacrifice of her sanity and combed her hair down. It enveloped her face and her puffy bangs hung over the majority of her forehead. She tried giving herself a side part and that made it better, mostly. Though now her bangs covered part of her forehead and lower. No matter what she did her hair hung over her left eye. She tried pinning it back and the bobby pin got lost in her hair. Mercedes cursed.

Forgetting about her hair, it didn't take long for Mercedes to achieve an outfit for the day. Her pink sweater and jeans slipped on her body without a second thought. Before leaving Mercedes stopped to look at herself, and grinned. Despite her hair, she thought she looked pretty decent. Mercedes grabbed her phone and keys and went to school.

* * *

Mercedes walked into McKinley High timidly. It was the first day in a long time that she was going to try and talk to Kurt again. It wasn't that they were on bad terms; it was that he didn't really give her the time of day anymore. Between Rachel and Blaine, Mercedes wasn't surprised that Kurt didn't talk to her. But that didn't mean that she was okay with it.

Before Blaine, it was just her and him: Single and against the world. Before Rachel, they both aspired only to be successful and to never stop singing. Now, with Kurt busy with Rachel and Blaine, it was Mercedes against the world, and very single. She didn't want a boyfriend. Not necessarily. But she was seventeen and had never known the feeling of someone holding her, someone kissing her…she started to throb again. She mumbled her displeasure at the incessant throbbing.

She saw Kurt leaning up against a locker talking to Blaine animatedly. It made her stop in her tracks. There was no way she was going to venture a conversation with his boyfriend around. She'd have to wait until he was alone to try again.

Her locker was only a couple of feet away and she walked to it, intent on getting her chance before overhearing Kurt's gossip.

"I'm sick of her crap, Blaine. I've tried to talk to her—even _Rachel _tried talking to her for me, and what do I get in return? She had the audacity to cuss out Rachel because people actually care about her! You know what she said? '_On behalf of my feelings regarding you, Kurt, and the rest of glee club: Fuck off'_!"

Who could they have been talking about? Maybe Tina, she was always throwing a fit. But that didn't quite jive. No one really paid attention to Tina, even less attention than they paid to her. So why would they bother with Tina? Better yet, why would they care? It was in no offence to the girl, but she was disregarded more often than not.

"She's lonely, Kurt. It's sad. You know you kind of left her in the dark after we happened. You can't blow up on her for feeling the way she does. She's only human, besides…" Blaine replied, and then he must've leaned in to say something important because Mercedes couldn't hear him anymore.

She stopped breathing. They couldn't have been talking about her, could they? She didn't remember saying that to Rachel or anyone, even though she honestly felt like saying it most of the time. If she really did lose her temper like they're saying, wouldn't she remember? So of course they weren't talking about her. They were probably gossiping about Santana, she'd cuss out a garbage can. Yeah, that fit a lot better than her or Tina.

Mercedes nodded to herself and went to class, ready for the day to be over with already.

Mercedes made it through the day to glee club in one piece. As expected, no one bothered her about the thing on her neck and she didn't even think about the inevitable drama between Kurt and Santana that was sure to unfold. But she did forget one thing: Food.

This had happened before. She would go the whole day not eating anything and feeling rather proud of that fact, only to get seriously hungry right before glee. She had tried doing all the choreography and singing before, only to almost pass out behind the wheel driving home afterwards. And she had to drive herself today. She wasn't going to let that happen again, she learned her lesson the last time. Driving requires fuel.

She set her bag down in her chair before turning to leave, determined on finding a vending machine. Mercedes made it halfway out the door before she was bombarded by Kurt and Rachel.

"Mercedes." Kurt said. He spitted it out like a cuss word. Rachel glared at Mercedes in mutual agreement.

She tilted her head to the side. "Is something wrong?"

Rachel looked at Kurt like she was telling him something with her eyes. Mercedes used to give him that look all the time when they were still best friends. She shook her head at the memory.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Obviously there's an issue between us. And we're giving you this opportunity to explain yourself before we vouch for your removal from glee club."

"What?"

"We don't want you here anymore, _Mercedes. _Can you understand that?" Rachel sneered, glaring at her vocal competitor. Getting rid of Mercedes was a perfect idea. No more sharing the stage with another diva, no more rivalry. She would truly get to shine and not worry about someone else taking the light away from her. She could have Kurt and the glory all to herself.

Mercedes was overcome with bewilderment. She couldn't understand why she was hated all of the sudden. Was it something she said? "No, Rachel. I can't understand. Why wouldn't you want me here anymore? I haven't done anything to you."

Instead of replying, Rachel turned to Kurt with her arms crossed. "See? I _told you _she was gonna act like nothing happened? I'm telling you Kurt, she's crazy!"

Mercedes felt the other glee club members burning holes into the side of her head. She knew everyone in there was watching the scene like it was a damn lifetime movie. And this, among many other reasons, was why she hated Mr. Schue. He never stopped anything that happened around him; he just watched the spectacle of whatever was going down like he was another teenager.

She thanked God her hair was so big and curly so that the only people that could gage her reaction were Rachel and Kurt. "I'm not crazy, Berry. Feel free to let me know what it is that's so bad you two are trying to kick me out of glee club."

Rachel pulled her shoulders down and straightened up. She cleared her throat before saying, "_On behalf of my feelings regarding you, Kurt, and the rest of glee club: Fuck off. _Does that ring any bells, Mercy?"

Rachel looked at Mercedes like she had caught her in a lie, but she was still confused. "I did overhear Blaine and Kurt talking about someone and saying that this morning. How does that involve me?"

"Cut the crap, Jones. You said it and you know you did, now own up to the consequences."

"What consequences?" Mercedes exclaimed, "I never said that to you or anyone!"

"Oh for God's sake!" The Barbra Streisand wannabe yelled before pushing past Mercedes and into the choir room, clearly fed up.

"Kurt," Mercedes asked quietly, "Do you—do you really want me gone?"

He nodded. "I can't thrive in an environment where envy lives and cruel words are constantly exchanged. We all know that Rachel is the best out of this whole glee club, and I'm tired of your jealousy clouding your judgment. While you are special in your own right, this club will fail without Rachel. I picked the lesser of two evils, and if you don't like it, I want you to leave Mercy."

Mercedes swallowed. "So you really think I said all that? That I want all of you to F off?"

"I can believe it."

"But how? After everything we've been through—you really think I'd say that about _you? _You're my best friend!"

Kurt looked away. "We're _supposed_ to be best friends, but best friends don't call each other bad things. Best friends don't ignore each other when they care about each other. Quite frankly, I don't know you anymore Mercedes. "

"_Are you serious_?! _You've _been ignoring _me _ever since you got a boyfriend! How can I talk to you when you're always with _him_?"

"Maybe if you had a boyfriend, or other friends, you'd quit revolving your world around me. But who would date you, Mercedes? You're overbearing!"

Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe you'd say that to me, Kurt."

"What?" He mocked her, feigning innocence, "I would _never_ say that about you, Mercedes!"

"But I never—I _honestly_ don't remember saying those things."

Kurt shrugged and walked past his former friend and patted her shoulder. His touch left Mercedes cold. "It appears you don't."

She wiped at her eyes and choked back a sob. She wouldn't let anyone see her tears. Mercedes walked away from the threshold and to the only place where she could be reduced to a heap of tears and still have her peace and quiet.

* * *

It took almost everything out of her not to cry in the middle of the abandoned hall, but that was as far as she got. She wasn't about to go to a bathroom, where girls were constantly coming and going and sure to hear her tears. Everyone in glee was surely talking about her right now—she didn't need another audience. She felt like throwing up, except there was nothing in her stomach to vomit. Mercedes wished there was, she needed the high of purging to make her feel better. She was sure that was the only thing that could make her feel better at this point.

Mercedes slid down and pull her knees up to her chest, resting her head on her legs. She wasn't sure how things got so bad so quickly. She didn't say anything to Rachel about Kurt or anyone else—did she? Obviously he believed that big nosed bitch, and everyone in glee club probably did too. Why was beyond her. Yeah, she had beef with Rachel from time to time—but did that extend to the other members? No.

She heard someone coming but didn't move. Mercedes doubted it was an actual authority figure. All teachers and administrators have this weird tendency to not do their job around McKinley High. From her position, she could look up and barely see anything through her curls. But she did see old converse. And then knees, and then felt a body sitting down next to her.

"Hey," The person said, "I'm Sam."

* * *

**DON'T BE MAD. Here's why…**

**I'm on summer break now, and with only dealing with work and my personal life, I promise to update more frequently than once a week. You'll see this updated within the next day or two, I promise.**

**Thank you to: Zeejack, Oxford, eowyn, Ladij, Krazykay, Blackrose, Jujubee, Kimpa, Carebearcaryn, NCC-0419, and Haitianm for reviewing the last chapter! I am truly grateful for each and every one of the words of encouragement, so thank you so much!**

**Anyway—did you like this? Does it seem rushed? Feel free to leave any criticism and please review! **


	9. Onion Rolls & Bagels Interlude

**Oh when you walk by every night**

**Talking sweet and looking fine**

**I get kind of hectic inside…**

**Oh baby I'm so into you,**

**Darling if you only knew**

**All the things that flow through my mind...**

* * *

Sam Evans was even more beautiful in person. In her daydreams he was exquisite, but in reality it was overwhelming. Compared to her shaking form, he looked like a giant knight in shining armor. Giant wasn't the right word—muscled was a lot more like it. He was deliciously muscled. And yet, as powerful as he looked, he stared at her like a kind gentleman. It confused her.

She didn't realize he was talking until his pretty face contorted into confusion. "Uh, are you okay? I mean, God, you obviously _aren't, _but I mean, you're not responding and I don't know if you can hear me or if—Christ, please be okay I don't—"

"I'm fine; at least, I'm fine enough to articulate what you're saying." Mercedes said, cutting Sam off. She thought it was sweet, how concerned he was over her at this moment. Weird, considering they're strangers—but sweet.

He nodded, reaching over to his backpack that she didn't know he had brought until now and started digging around. As she heard things bumping around Mercedes wondered what he could possibly be searching for at a time like this. It could be anything, a tissue—which would've been nice right now—or a gun to blow her brains out. And while the latter seemed farfetched, she still considered that possibility because one could never be so sure.

It turned out Sam was searching for Kleenex. He pulled the small package out and smoothed the wrinkled plastic with his hands—which were huge, good Lord—before handing them to Mercedes. She smiled briefly and took the tissues. "Thanks," She said, and promptly blew her nose.

"I saw what happened back there, I mean, everyone in the choir room did."

"Oh," She said, feeling embarrassment wash over herself. "Yeah…it wasn't pretty."

"What Rachel and Kurt said wasn't right."

Mercedes shrugged. "I'm just glad it wasn't worse."

"It's been worse than this before?" He asked incredulously.

"No, but it could've been."

Sam thought about it for a moment. "Well that's just not fair, is it?"

"Bad people don't fight fair."

"But they didn't even give you the chance to defend yourself! And when Kurt walked into glee after you left, I could tell he looked guilty."

"Well good. He's a dick Sorry for the language." She flashed him a crooked smile.

"Oh," Sam said, momentarily distracted. "I don't care about that. I'm just concerned about you right now because, those people really were terrible to you back there."

Mercedes chuckled bitterly. "Sam I'm gonna try and be nice since you're new and all, but you'll soon learn that the whole glee club is full of rotten people. Yeah, we're a dysfunctional family and we love each other, mostly, but they still suck." She wiped her eyes.

"And these aren't sad tears you're seeing." She added.

"No? They look pretty sad to me, Mercedes."

"Yeah well, they're not—I'm not." She retorted, glaring at him, "These are confused tears. More than anything they're pissed off tears, because I can't stand them sometimes. And honestly—I can't stand it there anymore."

"So then leave Mercedes, you don't need them. No one deserves that treatment, especially not you."

Mercedes looked at him incredulously, and Sam stared at her in return. This moment seemed important—and something was tugging at the recesses of her mind, trying to tell her something. The more she looked into Sam's confounding eyes, the more that odd tugging sensation increased. "Weird." She said.

"What's weird?"

Mercedes flushed. "Nothing. I mean, it's weird you'd say that about someone you barely know."

"Oh, I guess it is." Sam didn't have a rebuttal for his actions. "I'm really sorry though. For the way they acted and everything."

She smiled "You keep saying that, and I'm telling you it's not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yeah, but they were assholes to you, all of them." He said as he watched Mercedes take another tissue out and wipe her eyes. It made his heart clench.

"I know."

"One of them could've stood up for you, and they didn't. They're terrible. And I would've said something, but…"

"But what?" She asked.

Sam turned away, his blush obvious. "I went after you. You looked very upset and no one was making a move, so I did."

"You didn't have to though. That's awfully nice Sam, thank you."

He smiled and nodded. "You're very welcome."

At that point in time, Mercedes felt it was only right to try and let him know that she wasn't perfect. "Sam, I don't want you to think that it's their entire fault. I played a part in that mess somehow, even _if_ I don't know how I did."

"Yeah, so what? Do you honestly think you deserved to be treated like that?" Despite what he was saying, his voice wasn't rumbly like she guessed it would've been. It was low and smooth, almost soft.

Mercedes shrugged. "No. But it doesn't matter what I think—I still get treated the way I do. So I must deserve it, right?"

"No."

Mercedes turned to look at him and was amazed to see a few freckles sprinkled on his nose. The small imperfection made him look even lovelier. Noticing this, she ran a hand through her curls and tried to tame them down to something decent. Her unruly hair was just another flaw she had that made her feel bleak in comparison to the handsome figure beside her. It was then that a thought occurred to her.

"How do you know my name?"

Sam reddened. "Um, I… I like to know my fellow glee club member's names."

"Hmm, okay." She said unconvinced, cocking her head to the side and shifting her curls over her shoulder. Upon realizing what she had unknowingly exposed to him, Sam smirked.

"What's that?" Sam asked abruptly.

"What's what?"

He extended one of his tanned hands out to touch her neck, and before she could grasp what he was talking about, he had already identified the mark on her throat. "It looks like a—well, never mind."

Sam knew exactly what it looked like, better yet, he knew what it was. And it was because of him. Seeing her exposed like that had his mind reeling. He tried to focus, but her brown sugar eyes and those huge black curls were distracting him. Sam bit his lip.

Mercedes felt Sam's hand touching her and she gasped then pulled away, feeling a flash of something she couldn't pinpoint. Visions of blonde hair and whispered words into her neck blurred her eyes and for a moment she went blank. But as soon as the image came, it was gone. _What the heck?_

"It's not a hickey," She explained, "Even though I know it looks like it. It's not though, it couldn't be—I'm not like that."

Instead of replying, Sam stood and reached a hand down to Mercedes. She found herself grasping his hand and being pulled up. Mercedes was fine until the image of a tanned enormous chest pressing her down into something soft crossed her mind and blurred her vision. Her mind became dizzy with emotion and she stumbled.

"Whoa," Sam said, resting his hand on the small of her back to steady her. "Are you okay?"

"It's just that…I'm dizzy," Mercedes admitted. "And my head hurts."

He stared down at Mercedes and something like realization flashed in his eyes. "Lean on my hand if you need to."

"Why?"

"Well," Sam said, not looking at her, "Eating something usually takes care of dizziness, even if you aren't hungry."

"I don't need food, really." She lied, "I ate a lot at lunch."

"One snack won't kill you. Trust me." He said, and the weird thing about that was she felt herself trusting him. "You're eating something."

Mercedes' stomach was about to growl in approval, but she held her breath to stave off the rumble. "So you're taking me to a vending machine?"

He hummed an affirmative. "…Unless you want me to go get you something?"

"No, that's fine. I need to walk."

* * *

Mercedes shoveled the Doritos Sam bought for her in her mouth. She was so hungry she couldn't bother herself with manners. Part of knowing what type of girl Sam went after helped her ease up around him. There was no way he'd ever look at her the way he looks at Quinn, so it didn't matter anyway. "So uh, what do you think of the girls here? I mean, they must pale in comparison to what you're used to am I right?"

"No, they're quite okay here." He said honestly, boring holes into her face. She resisted fidgeting.

"I guess. I'm sure you've had hundreds of girls though huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, thousands."

"All tall, tan and handsome?" She asked.

"All tall tan and handsome." He agreed humorously.

"Well my company must be a big change for you then."

"No it's not." He said making sure to meet her eyes. It seemed like he was trying to tell her more, like he was alluding to something. Mercedes didn't think about it.

She felt her cheeks heat up and decided to change the subject. Obviously Sam was just saying that because her day had turned to shit and he was the only one to show concern. It was a pity almost-compliment and she knew it. "Thanks." She said, and then she held up her Dorito bag. "I mean, for the snack. I needed it."

Sam looked confused for a moment and then grinned. "You're welcome; it was the least I could do."

She pointed an orange flavor coated finger at him. "You say that, but you didn't even have to come see if I was alright. You're a diamond in the rust Sam—no, a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls. A bagel on a plate full of onion rolls. Yeah…" She looked dreamy.

"Mercedes?"

"Instead of just kicking me why don't they give me a lift?" She mused to herself, and then realization struck her.

"I've got it Sam, I've got it!"

He laughed. "I think we need to rewind a few sentences. What did you mean a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls?"

Mercedes disregarded her half eaten bag of chips and stood in front of Sam. "Okay, so imagine all you've ever had for breakfast was onion rolls, and then all of the sudden one morning you walk in and there's a bagel. And so you take one look at it and you say, 'What is that?' and you try it! That's what we are."

"What are we?"

"A bagel on a plate full of onion rolls, no one understands us! Well, maybe they get you but they sure as heck don't understand me. Like Fanny Brice in _Funny Girl._"

Sam shook his head. "Is it bad that I'm completely confused right now?"

"It must be a plot, 'cause they're all scared that I've got…such a gift?" She said, half sung, looking at Sam expectantly.

"Oh God," Mercedes gasped, "Don't tell me you've never—never heard the vocal masterpiece that is _I'm the Greatest Star_?"

"No?"

"Alright, so you know how the theme this week in Glee is attitude, right? Well, that's it Sam! It's the perfect way to nail my assignment _and _fix my broken reputation in that choir room. I'm the greatest star; I'm the bagel on a plate full of onion rolls!"

Sam peered down into the Dorito bag she was still holding. "Is there crack in this?"

She smacked him. "You can joke now, but you'll cry later."

"Alright, no jokes, and no tears. Just let me get this straight: You're not quitting glee?" Mercedes shook her head.

"And, you're not gonna defend your case?"

"Nope."

"You're just gonna sing about being the best in there?" She nodded.

"That's awfully anti-climactic."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and went back to eating the chips in her hand. "Well, what's the point in arguing with them? They'll never change, and I'm not expecting them to. But my voice can make a deaf man swoon."

"That's a big game you're talking."

"Is it? I have the pipes to back it up, just so you know."

"We'll see."

"Okay, just stand back and be amazed." She said, and promptly started walking en route to glee club to prove everyone in that class wrong. And to impress Sam too, but she'd never admit to that.

* * *

**This is only an interlude, and considering I'm updating two days after my last post I hope you all aren't annoyed. I'll update with something more substantial within the next couple of days. I just wanted my reviewers to have something better to hold onto before the next chapter comes instead of piling it all the good stuff together. **

**Thanks to: Kimpa, Guest, Oxford, Blackrose, Haitianm, Ladij, Krazykay, Zeejack, AntoniaSayonara, carebearcaryn21, abbiecarr, eowyn, thinkur101, and LovesamcedesStory for reviewing the last chapter! You all leave me such love that I can't help but write more and strive to be better for you beauties!**

**Please Review!**


	10. The Realistic Truth

**Maybe we'll live and learn**

**Maybe we'll crash and burn**

**Maybe you'll stay, maybe you'll leave,**

**And maybe you'll return;**

**Maybe we'll fuss and fight**

**Maybe we won't survive,**

**But maybe we'll grow**

**You never know **

**Baby you and I…**

* * *

Sam watched Mercedes march ahead of him determinedly. It was odd, watching someone he had laid with less than 24 hours ago talk and act like a complete stranger. They _were_ strangers—they were supposed to be, anyway. But seeing her today, looking like a lost angel and being trash talked to by lowlifes had him struggling to keep his cover. He was supposed to be infatuated with Quinn, not Mercedes. But how could he pretend to like anyone else when the only woman he'd ever love was within arm's reach? It was sacrilege to try and not be enamored by her smile and laugh, her tears and small hands that fit perfectly within his…

She was flawless, absolute perfection. Those big inky curls that framed her round face. That russet skin, brown sugar eyes and rose petal lips could do no wrong. Nothing she did or said was wrong in his eyes. Maybe this was the young love people on earth in films talked about. The kind of adoration that made people blind and naïve, at least, he felt blind when he tried focusing on anything but Mercedes. Only, their love was ethereal and everlasting. Even if Mercedes didn't fully realize it yet, he didn't care. He'd wait a thousand lifetimes for her to fall in love with him again.

It took him all of last night to pull himself together after he broke their mental Promise to each other. Sam was crying before he closed her bedroom door. Funny how someone so small reduced an immortal man into a sniveling boy, and right before her sleeping form, no less. She didn't know what he was going through right now. He didn't have any interest in going back to that hot mess of a glee club. No, he honestly didn't give a fuck about any of them and he wished Mercedes felt the same way.

What he _really _wanted to do was take her and go someplace where they could become reacquainted to another in private. Twelve hours without a hug or kiss from his lady was too much. And knowing that he'd have to wait even _longer _until they got back to that place was heartbreaking. Sam couldn't wait that long. He was an understanding man, not a patient one. He knew he was coming off thirsty and desperate, but he didn't care. Mercedes was kind of hardheaded and didn't know when a guy was flirting with her, even with him staring at her like a starved animal.

Partially, he was happy that he remembered Mercedes at all. He wasn't supposed to, and despite telling her before that his lasting impression could keep him grounded here—he still had his doubts. Not because of the impression he left on earth, but because of the other Elites now riding his ass. This was why he was only partially happy about the whole ordeal. Sam should've seen this coming, should've known that true happiness never comes without a fight—but he was tactless and thoughtless. He wanted to blame Mercedes for making him lose sight of everything important but couldn't. She tried to make him see logic yesterday morning, but she was wearing a nightshirt and panties! Logic and Mercedes in a nightshirt don't properly function in a sentence, much less reality. Could he honestly be blamed?

Then Mark had to come along and rock his world. After yesterday morning he had thought they were in the clear. They had made the mental break; he had closed his only portal to the Elitist world when he broke away from Mercedes. Even though he knew it existed he couldn't go back. Sam was somewhat human and Mercedes didn't remember him so all was alright on earth. They were normal and it made no sense for the others to come bother him because he wasn't hurting anyone and she was completely ignorant in the ordeal. Still, Mark came.

It was after he had gone home and fell apart in the comfort of his room. His parents were already at work, thinking that he was at a friend's house for the night and went to school from there. Plus Stacy and Stevie were at school, so he had nothing to worry about as far as getting caught skipping were concerned. The only thing Sam wanted to do in that moment alone in his room was cry in peace. Because yeah, everything seemed fine, but he still lost his only love to her forgotten memories of him. It was sad.

But Mark stilled showed up. Sam didn't see it coming because he thought the only way into the mortal world was through another human being, so he wasn't sure how he had gotten there. Could he have done the same thing as Sam? He wanted to ask. He was a bit flustered though when Mark had barged into Sam's room like a damned cop, in a stance like he was ready for a brawl. All the while Sam was still sitting on his bed in a mess of tears. The situation would've been quite comical in different circumstances.

_Mark saw Sam crying like a baby and furrowed his eyebrows. The Sam he knew never cried, and so he wondered what could possibly make him so wretched like he was now. Sam looked up from his place on the bed and flinched._

"_Sam." It wasn't a greeting, and Sam didn't expect it to be. He was sure the last thing Mark felt like doing was sitting down and chatting with him like they were best friends._

"_Mark." Sam replied, croaking the word out of his throat. He had to pull himself together and fast. _

_Mark was still an Elite, and that much was obvious by the way he glowed in Sam's room. He could kill him right then and there without blinking, because that's how much power they held. Sam knew their abilities because he used to have them, and still had some. Though no matter how much power he preserved in his almost human body, it was nothing compared to a full-fledged Elite. What Sam had could possibly hold Mark off if it came down to it. But in terms of actually beating him, he was a goner._

"_I could kill you," Mark said, "I _should_ kill you after all the mess you've caused."_

_He smiled, but inside he was worried. "…But?"_

"_I'm trying to give you a chance."_

"_Barging in my room like you're ready for war doesn't seem like a peace offering to me. If you're trying you're lying."_

_He turned and glared. Sam tried looking away in time but it was too late. "Now is not the time for jokes." He said._

_Elites could cause death without blinking, and pain without thinking about it. Mark just _felt _his annoyance toward Sam and he was reeling in agony. It was like being burned alive, like someone took a torch and made him bathe in its flames. The pain extended from his physical body to the being inside him, and it felt like it lasted for days when it was really about ten seconds. Sam knew this trick very well, it was the Hell Glare._

_The Hell Glare was a burning from the inside and out and it terrified anyone who had dealt with it. For most people it killed them, and it wasn't a surprise why. Whoever had the piecing Glare put upon them stepped into pure Hell for however long it lasted, and that was enough to kill anyone. But not Sam, because he knew what it was. Mark was aware of this fact, and just did it because he was pissed off. _

"_We care about you Sam, and most importantly we want you to be happy," Mark started, looking away and giving Sam a break from the cruelty. "But we—the other Elites—we can't be happy when you break the rules. And we're all supposed to be a team. If we're not happy, you're not happy. You know this._

"_But as an Elite, I'm not afraid to sacrifice the happiness of one for the happiness of many. It's our duty, and it used to be yours too until you let that depressed little girl get in the way of your responsibility._

_Mark glared hard and long at Sam for his last sentence, already riled up again. Sam cried out at the torture. "Now, I told you to let it go. I told you that you'd see that stupid girl again at another point it time. She was going to kill herself, yes, and that goes against His logic, but that wasn't your place to interfere. You shouldn't have saved her. She as a human is supposed to make mistakes, and if suicide was another mistake of hers so be it. It was hers to make and I warned you to let it go. You obviously didn't." He looked away and walked to another side of Sam's room to give him time to pull himself together. Beings like him don't lose their self-control, but he was doing a great deal of that in this room. _

"_Love makes people do stupid things." Sam coughed out, trying to catch his breath. He didn't know how many more glares like that he'd be able to take._

"_That's the most competent thing you've said in a while, Sam. But that doesn't excuse anything. You failed your fellow Elites, and skipped out on your responsibility for a sixteen year old human you were Promised to. This is an offence punishable by death only." He finished._

_Sam rubbed his ribs that were still tingling from Mark's glares. "So kill me then, Mark. You know you can, and I can't do anything to stop you. All the formalities don't make sense. If you're going to execute me, I don't want to hear your BS about my felony as a former Elite. Just get it over with and cut the crap."_

"_The only problem with that is I can't. Not because I don't want to, because I sure as hell want to." Mark chuckled. "No, I can't kill you because that would ruin your Promise."_

_Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"_

"_If you die, Mercedes will never know love. She'll go her whole life not knowing, and instead of finding it on her deathbed like she's supposed to, she'll just die. And that's not how it's meant to be."_

_Sam nodded, thinking it over. "Okay then, so why are you here?"_

_Mark smiled devilishly. "Well, it's a funny concept. I didn't believe it when I heard it but hey, the Elites are very forgiving. They are willing to give you another chance. They've said that once you get Mercedes to fall in love with you again, you have to come back to us."_

"_What?"_

"_Try to broaden that handsome vocabulary," Mark said, "I said you have to return to us. Once Mercedes loves you come back to the Elitist World. Then your Promise will be properly restored and you can return to your duty as an Elite."_

"_But I can't do that—"_

"_Why not?" Mark asked, even though he knew exactly why._

"_Because," Sam said shakily, "if I mess with her head again, she'll go brain dead. She'll die, there's no way Mercedes can handle a mental _and_ physical break. Forget brain dead she might just have heart failure like that. It'll kill her one way or another. I can't do that."_

_Mark smiled. "Well, it seems like that is how it was supposed to be all along, doesn't it? She was always supposed to die, and you can't mess with Fate."_

"_You __**bastard**__!" Sam lurched at the Mark and was effortlessly held off by a Hell Glare with the force to kill a grown man. _

"_Don't be mad at me, Samuel. Be mad at yourself for putting all of us through this misfortune. Better yet, be mad at your Promised One for trying to kill herself in the first place. And don't say you can't come back because you haven't a choice in the matter. And don't say you won't do it, because one way or another it'll happen eventually. Love doesn't wait for no one, and neither does death. Both are patient, but neither will stop. At some point in due time, both will happen, and it's time you face the reality of that. The girl—Mercedes?—was never meant to live any longer than that Fateful day in September. You meddled in that, and now look at the mess you've caused. You should be ashamed of yourself."_

_Mark started glowing again and Sam wondered faintly if he was going to kill him anyway, this pain felt like a kill shot. _

"_You will reap what you've sewn. Remember that, Sam." And then, he was gone._

* * *

Sam wanted to lay and mope around for tragedy that had become his love life, but he knew he couldn't. He wanted to avoid Mercedes, but he couldn't do that either. Not after watching her get verbally abused. Considering all the hell that they've been put through, simply because they want to _be together _he could pretend no longer. In the grand scheme of things, he should be avoiding her for the sake of her life, but her happiness meant more to him. How could a lifetime alone add up to a day with his only love? How many years of depression outlived a month of pure happiness?

She was everything to him, and yet he couldn't keep her alive no matter what he did. No matter what she picked—whether it was eternity in her mind with him, or life on earth with Sam—she would die in the process. He wanted to scream every time he thought about it because of how unfair it all was. They were doomed.

They were both doomed because if she died there was no way he was going to be able to keep on living. It just didn't work like that for him. If he had to try and live without her after knowing what it felt like to finally be alive—he would die right with her. Her words from yesterday hit him like a ton of bricks then. He finally got it.

"_I don't know how I'll be able to live without you again. Now that I know what it's like to be alive. I think—Sam I honestly believe—if I have to try and make it alone, I'll die."_

Death was starting to seem like the safest place for him and her to be together. And that was a sad thought.

* * *

**Didn't mean to make this chapter so depressing, but it was long overdue that Sam's POV came into play. ALSO, I wanted to point out that Sam remembers Mercedes, and that's within the plot ladies (and gents possibly)! Remember chapter 3? **

_**Thanks to: LovesamcedesStory, carebearcaryn21, Blackrose, NobleSpaceman, LadiJ, eowyn, zeejack, Haitianm, krazykay23, and TeamSethLover. They get all the bitches. Not only that, but they make me want to write because they are my inspiration! I should have the next chapter up soon!**_

**Please review!**


	11. The Greatest Star

**Whenever I'm alone with you**

**You make me feel like I am home again**

**Whenever I'm alone with you**

**You make me feel like I am whole again**

**/**

**However far away**

_**I will always love you**_

**However long I stay,**

_**I will always love you**_

**Whatever words I say**

_**I will always love you…**_

* * *

Mercedes was charging at the choir room it seemed. She walked there like it had a purpose, because for once that wretched classroom served an actual purpose. She was not going into the room with the intention to impress (exclude Sam) the other Glee members. If she were being honest with herself, Mercedes was done trying to argue with stupid. What she wanted, though, was to prove herself. Vindicating herself as the greatest star and trying to impress were obviously two different situations, but she was done with the latter. She was done hiding behind Rachel's—and even, yes, _Kurt's_—shadow. It was her turn. And with or without New Directions, she was going to shine.

The thing about being a diva, or rather, having an attitude was that the person exuded a certain amount of confidence. Now, Mercedes was sure Santana could testify her confidence a thousand times over the meager supply Mercedes had, but that wasn't the point. The point was, Mercedes was a shooting star and was tired of being covered up by the moon. She deserved to be admired by others, just like the rest of Glee club.

Mercedes knew there were other girls better than her somewhere, sure. Someone was always better than the next person and that couldn't be denied. She was aware of the talent glee possessed. Santana could hit lower notes than Mercedes had ever, and Quinn had the beautiful harmony thing going on, but Mercedes' voice was a siren. No, a silver flute.

Rachel was talented, yes. Mercedes would give her that. And Rachel's voice was very theatrical and trained, Mercedes would admit to that. But so was hers. Mercedes could sing anything. She could go from singing Beyoncé to Mariah and not miss a beat, only to slide from whistle tones back to the classics like Barbra Streisand and Ella Fitzgerald. No one knew that because they never gave her the chance to sing anything but glory notes, but she was capable of it. Mercedes was versatile, and that's what Rachel wasn't. Rachel wasn't versatile in her voice and Mercedes knew it. If she was, Rachel would've rubbed that in everyone's face by now. That was a fact.

That was why she was charging into that classroom with the intention of singing something no one ever heard her sing before, and better, something Rachel _always _did. Mercedes was singing Barbra Streisand. But she was different than Rachel because she actually appreciated everything Streisand has done in her career, and not just _Funny Girl. _She'd bet Rachel didn't know that Barbra went through the disco phase and sung with the late great Donna Summers. No, all Rachel saw were the big luminescent Broadway lights blaring on her idol. It was ridiculous. So even though she had just gotten humiliated, she was boomeranging back right into their faces. Mercedes was pretty sure it had something to do with Sam coming to her rescue.

Him worrying over her was fluffing her ego. OK, so she knew that Sam didn't like her—_care _for her like he did with other girls. Quinn had him on a leash she was sure, and she had no intention on breaking that up. But his green eyes fueled her. He pumped her up with his words, and wrenched her heart with his concern. Sam was too good for anyone's good. And she wasn't going to lie; she was attracted to him physically. A person would have to be blind in order to not think he wasn't cute, at least.

Sam's appeal had different flavors. When he was with Quinn, he was cute in the way that a puppy was cute. It was no offense to him really, but Quinn de-masculinized Sam. He was an attractive guy by himself, very boyish and smug. And when he was with Quinn he was a cute boy that followed her around because that's what boys did when they were with her. Like how a dog follows their owner. That's just how Quinn operated. She didn't date men, she owned them.

But when Sam was alone, or with _Mercedes _more correctly, that was a different story all together. Sam's attractiveness was more of a lure than a flavor. When she was alone with him, he was different. He was beautiful in a sexier way, all muscle and plush lips and just-cut green grass eyes. With hair so golden it made the sun jealous. The kind of southern gentleman woman desired for. Sam was absolutely perfect with her. That's the Sam he was when she was around. That was the Sam Mercedes had dreams about and was constantly throbbing over.

Mercedes could think clearly about him when he was with Quinn. He was the infatuated puppy over her, the doting fool. But alone with herself, Sam was dangerous. His smiles were predatory, and every stare into Mercedes' eyes was a pierce into her soul and a dagger to the heart. And his touch, when he touched the weird not-hickey on her neck—Mercedes wasn't going to go there. It was almost like he was teasing her. As if he knew what it was and where it came from. Like, almost like he—no.

The famous throbbing to her core and center and everywhere else internal was back. Not like it ever went away. It made her rub her thighs together and smooth a hand over her shirt to make sure she wasn't nipping. She almost moaned when her hand passed her chest, and then grimaced. This was embarrassing and Mercedes was sick of it. She had never, never _ever _touched herself before, and she didn't want to, but she knew she was gonna have to take care of it. She was in _school, _for God's sake and this was happening to her. It was official; Mercedes' body needed some TLC.

She stopped walking and chewed her lip in thought. She was formulating a plan to sing and make a goodbye speech as quick as possible so she could get in her car, go home and have some alone time. Mercedes was halfway through an idea when Sam came from behind her and touched her shoulder.

He must've thought she was distressed because his voice was soft again. "Is everything alright?"

His touch scorched her shoulder and burned right down to her center. She flinched and politely took his large hand off of her. While she personally enjoyed the touch, she removed his warm hand for the safety of Sam's relationship with Quinn. While Mercedes wasn't a home wrecker, she couldn't be sure _what_ she would do whenever Sam was near. "I'm fine, I just need to hurry and get home."

He bit his lip and reached out for her hand. Sam stared at her small womanly hand encased in his. He knew that he was pushing it and for someone smitten with Quinn, this was highly inappropriate. But for the first time that day since touching the hickey he left on her neck, Sam felt grounded. He was home. And inappropriate or not, he wasn't going to deny his feelings about her. So even if it meant being overzealous and coming on too strong and seeming desperate, he was going to do it. He was always going to do it because nothing on planet earth with all its magnificence and beautiful people compared to holding Mercedes hand and looking into her eyes.

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

Mercedes gasped at the feeling of her hand held. It made the slow burn worse. And though she knew Sam was just being friendly, she had a hard time thinking that he was completely platonic as he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. She sighed. "A bit, but I'm good enough to sing and dash."

"Maybe you should go home and forget this mess until later."

"Maybe those Doritos you bought me were older than my locker and that's why I'm sick."

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched. "Are you saying it's my fault you're dizzy?"

She shrugged. "Maybe not _directly…_but _inadvertently_…"

He laughed and tugged her closer to him. "I wanna get you to a nurse."

"Later."

"No, now."

"Sam, I…" The command had Mercedes torn. It was _that_. That thing that made her squirm internally because she knew that he'd never like her in that way and that he was taken, but the way he looked at her shook that belief. Whenever she was alone with him, he made her feel like anything she felt was real.

He brushed a few curls off of her face that were falling over her eye and onto her cheek. _Her hair was getting very long._ "Hmm?"

She stepped away before she did something crazy. Like kiss his neck. Or his lips, or anything else she could get to. _Why was he doing this to her? _Mercedes was trying to be the sensible one. She knew Sam was concerned, she knew he was only there with her because no one else was. She _knew _it_. _And yet, she still couldn't shake her obvious attraction to him. Couldn't shake the magnetic pull she felt. It was almost beyond physical, but Mercedes was sure that was just her hormones talking.

"I wanna get this over with. And if I feel dizzy, I'll stop. But we need to get back in there—_you _need to get back in there, I mean. Quinn is probably wondering where you are. And considering that I'm the enemy, she wouldn't want—"

Sam was shaking his head the moment she said Quinn. She stopped. "What?"

"I don't have any intention on going back in there. Not today." _Probably not ever._

"Why?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't grab her hand again. "I don't want to."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why not? No one's mad at you."

"I just don't."

"But Quinn—"

"_Will call me later,_" He interjected, "So that's that."

Mercedes chewed her lip again and looked away. When she looked back his eyes were almost glowing. "Okay then."

They started walking again. He walked a good step behind her, which was best she assumed. Mercedes didn't want to keep looking over at him like a fool. She was two classrooms away from glee club when she stopped and turned to him.

"Will you, will you um…I'd feel better if you—I mean, if you want to, you don't have to—_God._"

Sam stared at her. "What?"

"Could you stay? I mean, hang around here somewhere so that if, if they start up again I—I mean, it's not like I need a bodyguard but it'd be nice knowing—"

She could tell he was trying to keep a straight face at her rambling. "Whatever you're asking me Mercedes, yes." He said.

She smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

Mercedes adjusted her clothes and puffy hair before walking into the choir room with her head held high. He wasn't going back in there with her, and she couldn't blame him. Sam was somewhere behind her watching, and that was all the moral support she needed right now.

The moment she was in glee club the atmosphere changed. She didn't have to look at the entire expanse of chairs to know that all eyes were on her. She didn't care though because she wasn't there for that. And though she knew that some of the members probably didn't intentionally ostracize her, none of them came to her rescue but Sam and that spoke volumes. She didn't expect someone like Santana to come, because she was a selfish bitch. And that wasn't said maliciously. Santana was a bitch like the sky was blue. Mercedes didn't really expect anyone to be honest, but if she did, she thought Tina or Artie would come after her. Or at any rate text her. She was aware that some places in the high school weren't accessible to the handicap, so she wasn't mad at Artie. Not really. Tina didn't have an excuse. And yeah, she got that her and Tina weren't best friends, but if the tables were turned Mercedes would've at least tried.

Mercedes made a beeline to the front of the classroom and stood next to Mr. Schue as he spieled on about having an attitude did not require cruelty to others. She rolled her eyes. Whatever. It took Mr. Schue about ten seconds to register she was standing next to him.

"Mercedes!" He said like they were long lost friends, "I'm glad you came back. We don't really want you gone. _Despite _what was said earlier."

She nodded halfheartedly and turned to the class like he had. "I understand, Mr. Schue. I get that you all don't want to see me go, but I also understand that you wouldn't really care if I did. And that's why I quit glee club."

The silence that followed spurred Mercedes on. "I'm glad I came back for the purpose of fulfilling my last assignment in here, and I'm even happier that I'm quitting. See, it's nice to have a big voice to help out harmonies and sing the glory notes when the star performer can't deliver them. It's nice when everyone willingly lets their inner light be disregarded for the sake of someone else. And it's real nice when no one challenges you about it. I understand."

She turned to look Mr. Schue in the eyes. "What you and everyone else fail to get is that you can understand something perfectly well and still disagree with it. _I _disagree with it. That's why I'm done."

The choir teacher shook his head disappointedly. "Mercedes, that's not true at all. I appreciate all of my students, _especially _the original glee club members." He was giving her a look like he meant _she_ was one of the people he especially cared about. Yeah right.

She waved his empty words away and stepped forward to focus on Rachel and Kurt only. "And _no_ Rachel_, _you don't have to vouch for my removal, because I'm removing myself. And Kurt, I want you to know that I thought better of you. No matter what you believe from the people in here, I really had respect for you. But it's gone just like our friendship. And whether you believe it or not, you've done me a great disservice as a best friend, and as a human being. You have done me _wrong, _and don't think you've gotten away with it. Kurtis Henry Hummel, you _will _get what you deserve."

Mercedes turned away before she started crying and before Rachel could say anything. She didn't want to hear it. Then she looked at the band and quietly told them to play a song she was sure Rachel had given them music to a long time ago. "So Mr. Schue, I give you this as my attitude assignment. I hope you realize, just like everyone else will eventually, that I'm the greatest star in this classroom. And here's why."

Rachel gasped incredulously as she heard the music start. _No way._

_Listen,_

_I've got thirty-six expressions-_

_Sweet as pie to tough as leather,_

_And that's six expressions more_

_Than all them Barrymores put together._

Mercedes smirked and let her theatrical light shine. She was versatile and here was her chance to show it.

_Some ain't got it not a lump,_

_I'm a great big clump of talent!_

She moved about the room like she was a Broadway star with her stage finally, and forgot where she was. She forgot what she was doing and just felt. That's what singing did to her, that's what singing _was _to her. It wasn't just about her crazy riffs and runs, it was about feeling. And she could definitely feel it.

_I'm the greatest star,_

_I am by far,_

_But no one knows it…_

_That's why I was born_

_I'll blow my horn_

_Till someone blows it!_

_I'll light up like a light,_

_Right up like a light_

_I'll flicker, then flare up_

_All the world's gonna stare up_

_Lookin' down_

_You'll never see me,_

_Try the sky,_

_'Cause that'll be me!_

Mercedes was almost done and she knew her performance was tripping everyone out. Because who would've guess _Mercedes Jones _of all people to be singing this song? That's why she was singing this, and also to let Rachel know that in glee club or not, she was a force to be reckoned with. And just like Fanny Brice, no one could compete with her. She pointed at Rachel as she sang the last phrase and then turned her finger to Mr. Schue.

_Have you guessed yet?_

_Who's the best yet?_

_If you ain't I'll tell you one more time._

_You'll bet your last dime_

_In all of the world so far_

_I'm the greatest, greatest star!_

The whole room was up and clapping before she even finished her last note. But she didn't care about their standing O. She didn't care about the fact that she had no idea what she was going to do now since she quit. All Mercedes cared about was the look of utter astonishment on Rachel's face. Because she sang it better than she ever could. That's what kept her smiling as she walked out of glee club with her bag in tow for the last time.

* * *

"You were amazing!" Sam exclaimed, wrapping Mercedes up in a hug when she saw him.

"Thank you." She murmured into his chest, feeling a beautiful calm wash over her.

His embrace—_hug, _had her body heating up considerably. Mercedes should've stepped away immediately when she started reacting the way she did, but she didn't. After everything she had been through that day, it was nice to feel good for once. Yes, he was taken and yes it would never happen, but she allowed herself to pretend. Mercedes pretended for that moment that she was his and he was hers. What a beautiful fantasy. They stood like that until she felt something soft and plush touch the top of her head. And she prayed it wasn't a kiss, because if it was he was in trouble.

"Uh, I'm gonna go home now." Mercedes muttered awkwardly as she moved out of the hug.

"Okay."

She nodded and turned to leave when he grabbed her hand again. "Mercedes?"

_He's gotta stop doing that. _"Yeah?"

"Can I have your number?" He asked, "So I can check on you later and see if you're alright?"

Her heart almost stopped. "Sure."

It was cool, giving him her number. The thought of it was, anyway. She had given guys her number before and nothing happened. They had her number and she had theirs, but neither ever took the step of picking up the phone. So maybe this was like that and he'd never text or give her a call. She acted like it was because the thought of talking to him and having his voice in her ear had her sweating. She prayed that she wasn't having a heart attack.

* * *

**Sorry for not updating sooner, but with the tornado drama going on in my state, internet and fanfiction was really not my concern. But know that I haven't stopped caring about this story. I live a couple cities away from Moore OK and I can only pray for their recovery. **

**THANK YOU: Ladij, TeamSethLover, Oxford, Blackrose, LovesamcedesStory, carebearcaryn21, Haitianm, krazykay23, eowyn, zeejack, Alliecattie3,** **and Jujubee58. These special people are beautiful creatures that even Elites can't touch. **

**So, what do you think about the unbearable sexual tension between our favorite couple? You think Sam will call Mercy? What about glee club, and what do you think Mercedes will do now? **

**Please review! **


	12. People

**People,**

**People who need people**

**Are the luckiest people in the world…**

**.**

…**Yet letting our grownup pride hide all the need inside**

**Acting more like children, than children**

**.**

**People who need people**

**Are the luckiest people in the world!**

**.**

* * *

After exchanging digits and hesitant smiles—on Mercedes behalf, anyway—she left him to go home. Mercedes tried not to skip her way out of that high school and seem like a bigger loser than what he already witnessed but she couldn't help herself. She _did _help the skipping though, until she was within five feet of her car. But hey, a win was a win. She was downright euphoric at the way he smiled and hesitantly said goodbye after promising to call. Though she was well aware that it probably wouldn't amount to anything, and she was okay with that. Mercedes didn't expect anything from him—not even a text—but she was still a bit anxious. Because if he did call or text she'd probably implode. It didn't take much from Sam to get her going. Honestly.

And she was quite happy with how everything had turned out after the mishap that started it all. And even though she was now glee club-less and just about friendless, she drove home with a smile. She could cry and yet she smiled. Mercedes was going to smile because she still had something to smile about and that was a comforting thought. She was well aware that in spite of her amazing performance, she still quit and she wouldn't be going to regionals that year. There was no way. No matter how much she'd undoubtedly miss having a place to fit in and sing, she was never going back. And she never truly fit in anyway.

They might not want to admit it, but glee club is really for the Broadway wannabes. Glee wasn't for everyone and that was the truth, not the lies Mr. Schue passed on to people. Sam and all the newcomers would soon realize that. People like—well, _anyone_ who wasn't Rachel, Kurt or Blaine really, would never comprehend the complete fuckery that goes on in that choir room. It showed in how solos and recognition were distributed. People who liked Broadway and pop and hip hop and _all _forms of music didn't strap their selves down to one genre, and were always shoved to the side. Like Mercedes and Santana. And because of that, they never got a chance at the spotlight unless it was as a duo. _Hmm. _Mercedes was going to have to revisit that thought later.

Mr. Schue shouldbe held accountable for the drama. He constantly chose one type of person to sing solos, and showed blatant favoritism, but unfortunately he would never own up to his mistakes. And no one would ever question him on it either. It was infuriating, because _he's_ the one in charge and _he's_ the one that should fair. He should be uniting the club and not constantly dividing it, whether it is inadvertently or not. But he wasn't. And Mercedes wasn't going to argue those things to him. She wasn't going to because she quit and Mercedes didn't argue with stupid.

She didn't feel bad when they lost last year, because she saw it coming. It was inevitable. If you always do what you've always done, then you'll always get what you've always gotten. New Directions may go to nationals this year, but they won't be taking home any trophy. Rachel and Finn might be good enough to win sectionals or regionals, but up against the best they can't win Nationals.

This begs the question, why can't they beat the best? Why were the last two tries at Nationals a bust? Well, it should be obvious: he featured two bland students from the same ethnicity with no personality, OK voices, and bright smiles. And made everyone else—whether a minority or not—hum and sway in the background. This was the 21st century, not 1960. Everyone with an ounce of talent on that stage should've been highlighted. Now she wasn't playing the racist card because of all the things Schue was, he wasn't racist. He was ignorant though. Schue was exceptionallyignorant to the melting pot that's right in front of his face. There were Hispanics, Asians, African Americans, and Caucasians. So why did he only show one fourth of that to the competition audience? He should exploit this fact! He should wave the multi-cultured flag like a badge of honor. And as long as he doesn't do that, she could guarantee New Directions would never win. Not Nationals, at any rate.

* * *

Mercedes was home within a half hour. It was a bit of a drive from her house to town. She lived somewhere off the main path of Lima Ohio. Everything she lived around was green grass or mossy green trees, and she could see a blue lake not too far off from her house. In short, she lived deep in the country. She had about two neighbors and everyone else was far away. It took almost twenty minutes to get to town and an extra ten to get to McKinley. Mercedes was isolated from the world, and she used to hate that. But now, as Mercedes stepped out of her Prius and walked up her driveway, she realized that she liked the privacy. If she streaked about her backyard naked, no one would see her. The only thing to stare back at her for a whole acre was grass and trees. She was away from town and out of harm's way. There was just something about being out-of-the-way from Lima's prying eyes that she loved.

Her mom was picking weeds from a tomato plant when she walked around her backyard sat down on an old swing. She had originally gone in the house for a few minutes to change into pajama shorts and a tank when she saw her mom outdoors gardening. It surprised her profusely, because typically her mom was at work. So instead of pretending her mother didn't exist like she usually did, she French braided her hair back and went outside.

"Hey." She said, biting her lip at the sight of her mother. Mercedes hadn't spent time with her mom in a long while. So long, actually, that she forgot Ilesha Jones was aging into an older woman before her eyes. The last time she looked she didn't have a single wrinkle and now…

"Hey baby, what's up?"

"Nothing," Mercedes said, "I'm just out here like you are."

"Yeah well, I'm out here actually doing something." Her mom sassed.

She laughed, even though that was hardly funny. "Yeah, okay. So um, how has work been?"

Mrs. Jones looked at her. "It's been work. My boss isn't being a bitch for once."

"That's good." She replied. "Is Dad…you and him are okay right?" She flinched. That wasn't smooth at all. "I mean, I haven't seen him around in a couple days."

"We're…at an understanding." _An understanding?_

"Hmm." This was beyond awkward. And uncomfortable. But she had to keep trying, for both of their sake. Mercedes nodded and opened up her mouth to start up another miserable attempt at conversation when her mom held up her hand to stop her.

"If you want to talk for real, come help me with these weeds first. My old body can barely bend anymore."

She rolled her eyes. "Mom, you're not old. You're barely—"

"Okay okay whatever. Just help."

"Sure thing."

Mercedes had forgotten how hard yard work was. She used to help her mother all the time when she was younger, but she didn't remember all the bugs and critters that lurked in the dirt and grass. It shocked her and spurred her along at the same time. While other girls at her school may have fled at the sight of maggots crawling through the weeds, Mercedes took that as a challenge. She picked them up and flicked the maggots behind her like all the other rocks and wildflowers she found. Mercedes would never say it out loud, but she thought of herself as a country girl.

It took her and her mother a good two hours to pull up all the weeds in the tomato plants sprinkled all over the backyard. The work was arduous and her hands were raw, but she prided herself in the feeling. It hurt like purging hurt. You were scared to do it the first time, but after a while it gets easier and then it somehow feels right. It was a stress reliever and Mercedes could totally see why her mom liked gardening. The only thing that felt better than this was singing. But to each their own.

They went inside and grabbed a glass of sweet tea before her mom motioned for her to sit at the table. Foul-smelling and sweating, Mercedes relented even though all she wanted was to jump into a shower. She sat down and looked at her mom expectantly.

"You were asking about Cordell, and here's the deal: Your father and I have been arguing a lot lately, if you haven't already noticed. Well…it got really bad yesterday and he headed out." Mrs. Jones gulped down some tea before staring at the ceiling. Mercedes was struck again by how tired her mom's face looked. "Cordell and I…there's a lot going on at the moment, and it's not pretty. We decided it was better for both of us. For now."

"Dad's gone?" Mercedes felt her heart jump in her chest.

"For the time being." She exhaled and drank more tea. "And between me and you, this is the best case scenario."

"He's gone?" Mercedes repeated. Even the word didn't sound right.

"We have some things to work out. It's complicated and we need some time. Okay?"

She shook her head, speechless. It wasn't okay. It was anything but okay. She wanted to know why her father left, and she wanted to know _now_. Mercedes wanted to know why her father was gone and never even told her why. Why he didn't bother to call and tell her what was up. Why he left her tired worn out mother to handle the all the business. She felt her stomach twist at the thought and tried not to heave on the couch. After all this her mom didn't need her puke, too.

Mercedes sat there for a long time, looking at nothing but focusing her attention on her glass of tea. She almost thought it was a joke until her mom sighed and got off the couch, smoothing a hand down her shirt and patting Mercedes' shoulder. It wasn't until she left the room and heard her mother's tired call of dinner being served in two hours that she knew it was for real.

* * *

She stripped her clothes the moment she was in her room. The moment her door slammed she was pulling her shirt and sports bra over her head like they were on fire. She would've waited until she was in the privacy of her bathroom, but who was going to see her anyway? Mercedes stepped out of her pajama shorts and underwear before throwing her dirty clothes into a pile beside her bedroom door. She'd do laundry later.

Mercedes was sweating out her braid. A long wet tendril was plastered to her forehead. She got the knots out of her curly snarls before pulling a wide tooth comb through it. Her eyes closed at the sensation and for a moment she allowed herself to be calmed by the steady combing.

In truth, she didn't know what to make of the events that had happened. Her father had left two days ago and she never realized that hadn't come home. She wanted to call him and get his side of the story before getting angry, but she couldn't help but blame him. He was the one that left, after all. And that made her angrier the more she thought about it. It didn't make him a better person to flee from his problems. And it didn't make him honorable because he left for the 'better' in a relationship that's not working. Even if he was the reason, he shouldn't have left. No—_especially _then. It just made him a coward and a quitter. Because chances are, if he created this mess he can fix it. But he'd never know if he let his fears do the talking.

She decided to call him after her shower. No sense making her bad mood worse by stinking _and_ having an unpleasant conversation. She checked her cell before plugging it up to the charger and getting in her bathroom. She shook her head. No texts or calls, like she expected.

It was hard to gage whether she was upset or not as she closed her bathroom door and turned on her shower. She had no right to be upset that Sam hadn't contacted her yet. The day was still young, and he still had time before she went into full on disappointed mode. And this was weird because she never expected anything from him anyway. She _still _didn't. They were complete strangers that had bonded over the last hour of school together because two assholes decided to attack her publicly. What they had could hardly be called a friendship, if that. But she was hoping he'd call or text her, and that was worse than any expectation. Hope was dangerous. It was miniscule, but resilient and tenacious. Hope made believers out of skeptics. And like faith, just a small amount of hope could move a mountain. A little hope went a long way. Was it enough to make Sam call her? She didn't know.

And what did Quinn think about all this? She most likely hated Mercedes' guts, that was for sure. Her boyfriend—or whatever he was to her—had left to go after the laughingstock of glee club, and Mercedes didn't know how to feel about that. Did he even say where he was going when he left? Did he pick up and leave without any forewarning? Or did he just get tired of hearing them slander someone he didn't know and decided to go figure out what kind of person Mercedes truly was? She wondered what happened before he walked out and afterwards, too. Did the room fall silent and everyone eventually moved on to a different subject? God, Finn or Blaine probably stood up and started waving their peace flags, talking about unity and acceptance. Even though they honestly don't give a shit what happens as long as their limelights aren't threatened.

But holy crap—_Quinn. _Mercedes couldn't imagine the inevitable fight that must've taken place by now, because Quinn doesn't hold her drama in for long. Not when it comes to boys, anyway. She had to know that it was just Sam's morality that did the walking and talking. What had happened between him and Mercedes was strictly platonic. Even if Mercedes wasn't sure how she felt, she knew Sam was. He had to be because if he was respectable in adversary he was respectable in relationships too. And really, why would Sam risk losing _Quinn—_beautiful, smart, thoughtful Quinn—for the hot mess that was Mercedes?

Yet and still, Mercedes was tingling from his hug and whatever he smacked on her head. It made her shiver just thinking about it. Her body was telling her it was a kiss, but all sensible logic was telling her otherwise. She stepped into her hot shower and tried to forget about it.

* * *

In the steamy grey cloud of space that was her shower, Mercedes leaned up against the cold tile and tried to quit throbbing. Images of sunshine hair and whispered words and pale warm hands mesmerized her. For a moment her vision blanked and she felt her body slipping down. Mercedes didn't fall, but she did slide down her shower wall into a position that had her knees pressed up to her chest. Her hair was everywhere. She sat and let the hot water rinse her dirty body and mind off. Mercedes hadn't even picked up a hand towel yet to wash with. She just couldn't with everything going on right now.

What was it about Sam that had her in a mess of limbs and thoughts? He was hot, sexy, friendly, attractive and attentive, yes. He was everything a girl wanted and everything Mercedes would never have. Sam was all those things and more. But these flashes that kept tearing through her and making her forget what she was doing—what was _that _all about? She had a crush before and it was never like this. Never ever like this. He was making her crazy. Mercedes tried cleaning herself off as a distraction. She pushed her crazy hair off her face and reached a hand up to get to a standing position. She was struck dumb—and very embarrassed—by how, ahem, _wet _she was. She ignored that for now. Mercedes had cleaning and shampooing to do.

It took about ten minutes to clean and groom and shave. It took fifteen more minutes to shampoo and condition her hair, which was full of trembling because running her fingers through her scalp made her weak in the knees. And that led to thoughts about Sam, because he made her weak in the knees. Anything Sam did made her weak in the knees.

Mercedes knew she had about ten more good minutes of hot water before it turned abruptly cold. She had now or never because there was no way she was touching herself in her bed where her mother could knock at any time. And she could knock now, but her mom didn't bother her when she was showering. It was the mutual respect they had for one another that kept her from doing it. So with the solitude she did have, she had better do something with it.

That thought triggered her hands to twitch, but she didn't know where to begin. Mercedes still didn't know what to do or how to do it. It started with her soapy hands mapping down a path to her aching breasts, which she didn't even know were tender until she squeezed them. _Oh. _She tipped her head back and daydreamed that her hands were much larger and paler and warmer. For a second it worked. Her vision was darker and it looked like the setting wasn't her grey steamy shower anymore. No—she was in a room, laying on something soft and twilight was seeping through the windows.

He was staring and kneading her breasts in awe, like the sight of Mercedes naked was more tempting than anything Quinn could ever reveal to him. And while she knew that wasn't true, she made believe. She let Daydream Sam take her away to a place where only his hands on her body mattered, where he adored her as much as she did him. In this place he smirked at her, his emerald eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. Those eyes were burning her alive and so were his hands, now on a path down lower. Her legs wobbled. Daydream Sam didn't notice this, or he did and didn't care because he kept going until he was where she needed him most.

_Oh God. _Her fingers, his fingers—_their _fingers, she didn't know anymore—frantically stroked and rubbed and palmed until she was a moaning shuddering mess. Her eyes closed and she was there again, pressed against him and something soft as he pressed a finger into her opening. It started as one finger because she was so small and tight, but eventually Mercedes was crying out for more. Something to quench her body like he had quenched her heart. Anything to fill the void she didn't know existed until he came into her life. And because he was a gentleman, Sam obliged, pacifying her. She almost shed tears at the touch. Where her fingers were short and slender, his were long and thick. The two digits impaled her wonderfully. He slowly moved them around, pressing deeper and deeper, stroking her from the inside out, until Mercedes was in tears—in literal hysterics—from the pain of his impaling fingers mixed with the pleasure of being explored so intimately. Mercedes never knew it would feel this perfect. Never knew she could feel so full and content and exhilarated. Yet wanting more, needing more…

* * *

Mercedes rode the feeling until her eyes opened again. Her fingers were slick and her center was raw. She rinsed off again. Mercedes didn't know how loud she got a couple of minutes ago, but she couldn't hold in her cries then even if she wanted to. Her shower was gushing water at full power and the vent fan was on, so hopefully that was good enough. Mercedes almost let herself get swept away again when the cold water she had anticipated showered her face. Mercedes turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her exhausted frame.

She sat on her bed and ran a hand through her hair, wanting to check her phone and not wanting to check her phone. Because if she had a missed call from Sam, she'd call him first and her dad later. But if her inbox was empty, she was calling her dad and dealing with that drama. And she really didn't want to, but she _had _to. She needed to get his side of the story before picking sides of her own. So Mercedes bit the bullet and looked at her phone. There was one missed text.

_Hey, _it said, _it's Sam. I would call but I'm babysitting right now. Can you text?_

It was sent at 4:27 pm. Mercedes looked at the time now. 6:41 pm. That was about two hours ago. She must've been gardening then. She sent an apology back, because if she had known he was going to text so early, she probably wouldn't have gone back outside.

_Sooo sorry! I was gardening with my mom, and that's why it took so long to reply. Yes I can text now. Are you still babysitting? _Her insides were twisting. Texting Sam was just another way to make her nervous. But she accepted the nervousness willingly. It felt better than calling her father, which she still had to do. Ugh.

Mercedes finally scrolled through her contacts and swiped his number out.

"Mercedes!" Was her father's cheerful greeting. After everything. "How have the last couple of days been treating you?"

She resisted the urge to answer honestly. "They've been fine. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"Oh," He responded, "You don't wait, do you? Well Cedes, under the circumstances, it was best I didn't."

_Under the circumstances this, it's better that you didn't know that, yada yada ya. Circumstances, circumstances, circumstances._ She was tired of hearing it. "You couldn't have called me?"

Mercedes' dad was used to people disregarding his actions and excusing them. He must've been as surprised as she was for challenging him to explain himself for once. "No honey, I couldn't. It's not that simple."

"But why won't you at least talk to me about it? I deserve to know why my father's gone." In all honesty Mercedes didn't want to know the cause of their issues, but since she was the only one reaching out for answers she had to delve deeper.

"Is that what your mom said?"

"No," She replied sharply. "Mom's being as evasive as you are."

"Oh, Mercedes." He said, like those two words encompassed the tragedy that her parents had sprung upon her.

Mercedes sighed, seeing a notification pop up indicating a new text. "I just wish you tried to work things out here. Mom wants you to come home, I know. She won't say it, but she needs you. And I need you."

"That's what I like about you. You're vocal about your needs. You're mother's not. She'll pretend everything's fine with a smile on her face and then one day she goes off like a loose cannon and you won't know what happened. Suddenly you don't help out enough and aren't supportive."

She took that in. "That's what you're fighting about? She's saying that?"

"No!" He exclaimed exasperatedly. "Not even close. But that's the _thing. _You'll understand soon enough, Cedes. Once you're married you'll see that in the relationship, it's what's _not _said. She won't say it, but she's disappointed in me. And she has reason to be, but she won't admit that. She doesn't want to talk about it. Any of it."

"So?" Mercedes asked, "So what if she doesn't want to talk now? She'll come around soon enough. Come back and try harder."

"Unfortunately, I can't. We're not… it's not that straightforward." He sounded sad.

"Then what are you gonna do? Stay gone forever?"

"Hopefully not Mercy, I don't want to be gone forever. You have to understand, your mother's very angry with me. I screwed up bad, and for now she's gonna need time to heal. I don't know how long this'll last. I do know that if I come back now I'll just make things worse. You're better off without that. She's better off without that…without me, I think."

Mercedes' heart jumped in her chest like it did earlier. "I don't believe that. We love you."

"I love you both too," He said, "But sometimes love isn't enough."

Frustrated tears welled up in her eyes. "Okay well, I'll call tomorrow. I just wanted to know—to know why."

"Oh. Well then. Now you know, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Bye dad."

"Bye honey, love you." She didn't reply and hung up instead. Her stomach was twisted up in knots, and she knew why. She knew what she had to do. Mercedes didn't even check the text Sam sent her. She would later.

* * *

Mom was shrieking dinner before she realized Mercedes was already downstairs. Dressed in a huge tee and pajama bottoms was good enough for her mom and at least her hair was braided back. The air was damp with their supper—baked chicken, an unhealthy salad that was slathered with sauces, and macaroni and cheese. Her stomach almost started groaning. All she had to eat that day was the Doritos Sam got her and that tea. She hadn't purged once.

"I talked to Dad." She said, pulling out a chair to the dining table.

"You did?" Her mom asked, piling her plate high with goopy macaroni and two baked chicken legs. Mercedes grabbed the carving knife.

"Yeah," She replied, slicing out a hunk of breast and reaching for the salad bowl. "He told me why he left. Kind of."

"Really? What did he say?"

Mercedes filled the remainder of space on her plate with salad, even though she didn't get macaroni. The calories would absorb into her body way before she made it to the toilet. She wasn't gonna take that chance. "That he thought it was best that he was gone. He says that it's best for you to be without him."

"Oh God. That's such a pitiful thing to say."

"Do you think that?"

"What? That what he said was pitiful? Yes, yes I do."

"No, not that. I mean…do you think that it would be better without Dad?" Mercedes asked, her mouth half full with chicken.

Mrs. Jones exhaled slowly. The kind of way a person would sigh if they were watching a plane fly overhead. Way, way gone. "I don't know. Honestly? I've thought of…separating."

Mercedes gulped down her food, even though she knew it was going to come back up anyway. "Divorce?"

"Not necessarily, Mercedes. Just some time alone."

"But I thought we were fine?"

"Let's be real, Cedes." She said, using the same nickname her father had minutes ago, "If your father and I were fine, wouldn't he still be here?"

Mercedes nodded and wiped her mouth, standing up. Despite starving herself that day, she wasn't hungry anymore. "May I be excused? I'm not hungry right now."

"Oh my. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings Mercedes please don't go—"

But Mercedes was walking away, and her feelings were hurt. The tears came almost simultaneously with her departure, filling her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks.

Maybe there were families out in the world that were different. Maybe they worked things out and didn't have to read in between the lines or wear down honest answers. Maybe parents and children didn't hide their feelings and fears away from each other to save face. Maybe, in these families, the parents always loved each other and never intentionally wronged their spouse. _I wonder if there's ever been a perfect family, _Mercedes thought once she was in the comfort of her bathroom once again. The vent fan was on, and the sink facet was spouting water. Her fingers were down her throat and coaxing her dinner into returning. It didn't take long.

She lay in bed that night wondering if marriage always led to divorce, and prayed that in some cases, love really was enough to keep a family together. She hoped so.

* * *

**I humbly apologize for my absence. I've been helping my family recuperate in Moore OK after the tragedy that happened that bloody Monday. I am now back to normalcy and in return I wrote a long chapter for you girls. **

**I'm not going to make a list of all that reviewed the last chapter because it's time to honor the ladies that have supported me the longest. **

_Zeejack__**—who has always been here; **__Ladij__**—who constantly makes me smile and press on; Oxford—your reviews are long and full of thoughtful reactions and emotion; **__LovesamcedesStory__**—Sweet and honest reviews; **__Haitianm__**—Always on the logical side of the story and it keeps me grounded; **__Eowyn__**—supportive and attentive like Oxford; **__Krazykay2__**—who is okay with whatever I do as long as it's not too crazy; **__Jujubee58__**—who reviews when she can, even if it's after I posted the next chapter and she wasn't credited for it. I appreciate you! ; **__TeamSethLover—__**your logical perception of the chapter is something I always anticipate reading**__; Alliecattie3__**—who gets shocked and excited for the crazy ride that is this story, and; **__Carebearcaryn21__**—your charming reviews always make me laugh.**_

_**I appreciate EVERYONE who reviews, but the ones above have dedicated their selves to review every time I have updated, and not just fleetingly. **_

_**I love you all.**_

_**Please review! **_


	13. Damage Control

_**If you really need me baby **_

_**Reach, reach me**_

_**Don't ever hesitate to call me,**_

_**And if she hurts you, she's a damn fool**_

_**All you gotta do is call me boy I got you…**_

_**If you listen to me baby, like you used to**_

_**Before I even knew you**_

'_**Cause you know I'm singing to you**_

_**I just wanted you to call me "anytime you need a friend"…**_

…

* * *

Sam watched Mercedes walk away until she was out of the school and sighed. He had definitely started something back in glee club that he needed to finish. He started something with Quinn he needed to finish. And instead of leaving like Mercedes had, Sam was going to face his issues. At least the time being, Quinn was the priority. Sam wasn't going to fix his mess with glee club until tomorrow because as far as he was concerned they could go fuck themselves, but Quinn was different. She was probably pissed off and ready to break up with him. He tried to feel upset about it.

Don't get him wrong, Quinn was a wonderful person. She was smart, thoughtful, and very attractive. She told him about her predicament with Beth and opened up herself to him when he could've rejected her. Sam found that Quinn was a damaged, fragile little girl that pretended to be invincible and cried on Sam's shoulder every chance she got. He let her because she was already saying that she might be in love with him and he didn't know what else to do. Sam wouldn't lie to her and say he felt the same way so he didn't. He just told her that she needed to love herself before loving anyone else. She said that was such a gentleman thing to say. It wasn't a gentleman thing to say, though. It was a reasonable thing to say because he didn't love her like that, at all. Not even a little bit. Sam may learn to love her like a friend, or a sister, but the only romantic love he'd ever know was Mercedes. Period.

Honestly he felt bad for leaving the choir room earlier after what happened and he knew what she must've been thinking. She trusted him to stay by her side and in return he ran off to be with Mercedes. That was a hurtful thing to do, and he was an asshole for leaving her, but he rather be an asshole than not go to Mercedes' rescue. After everything that was said and done, there was no way he was gonna let her be alone.

At first, Sam didn't know what was going on. He had come into the choir room with the mindset of evasion. Do not stare at Mercedes, do not look in her direction, do not drool at her retreating backside, and tune her beautiful voice out. It wasn't like he wanted to, Christ, but the only way he could keep her alive was to avoid her at all costs.

_He saw her in the morning walking to her locker looking so elegantly erotic it was rude. Sam was pretty sure she had planned the whole charade of wearing that droopy pink sweater that flashed cleavage and those tight jeans. She had done all that teasing to make him miserable because she was his Mercy and she never had any for him. And then he remembered that she didn't even know who he was and his heart dropped. _

_So he went into glee club that afternoon on the pretense to keep calm and press on when it came to Mercedes. Sam sat down next to Quinn and held her hand. She turned to smile at him and he returned it hesitantly. He hated pretending, but it was all he had left._

_He had seen Mercedes coming through the door and stiffened. Quinn felt his sudden tense and looked at him. "Is there a problem?"_

_Sam shook his head. "No, I um…I forgot about my exam tomorrow and it just freaked me out for a second."_

"_Oh," Quinn replied smiling her pretty smile, "You'll be fine if you prepare yourself."_

_Mercedes had walked past them to her chair and he caught a whiff of that delicious lotion she always wore. He remembered what it tasted like on her skin and he had to shake himself out of the reverie before he did something reckless. "Yeah, okay."_

_She walked past them again, en route out of the room for whatever reason and her fragrance wafted to his nose. Sam felt himself salivating. God, did she have to keep walking by him? It was making him insane! This had to stop soon, it was becoming unbearable. _

_And then Kurt and Rachel had walked up to Mercedes like the bitchiest pair of gang bangers he'd ever seen. Rachel's arms were crossed, and Kurt had a sour look on their face. _

"_Mercedes." Kurt had spat out like her name was an expletive. _

_Her inky curls flopped to the side as she tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"_

_Rachel was glaring at Mercedes and sneering at her. He wondered why someone that wasn't that good-looking to begin with had to go and make her face uglier by sneering. _

"…_There's an issue between us. And we're giving you this opportunity to explain yourself before we vouch for your removal from glee club."_

_Removal from glee club? What? What had Mercy ever done to deserve _that? _She was the only reason why he had joined glee and now they wanted to get rid of her? _

"_We don't want you here anymore, Mercedes. Can you understand that?" He heard Rachel saying, as if Mercedes' confusion was due to a basic lack of comprehension. _

_And though her voice was soft, Sam could hear Mercy replying and sounding as lost as he felt watching her. "…I didn't do anything to you."_

_People were starting to stare at the little scene that was happening and Sam knew that drama was only bubbling beneath the surface now. But what could do? What could he say? He was supposed to be the new kid that didn't see or breathe anything that wasn't Quinn. _

_Rachel had long forgot about being discreet over the fact that they were arguing and chose instead to let her voice take on a new level of shrill. "I told you she was gonna act like nothing happened! I'm telling you Kurt, she's crazy!"_

_Mercedes shook her head. "I'm not crazy, Berry. Feel free to let me know what it is that's so bad you two are trying to kick me out of glee club."_

_Oh no. He now had an idea on what may be happening. He had only got done with his mental break about a day ago, and her mind was probably still getting its memory back, therefore Mercedes didn't remember much of what she had done over the last two weeks. Or, he had wiped her mind clean so forcefully that he took some of her remembrance with the Purify. _

_Now Rachel had stormed into the classroom and sat down next to Finn with her arms crossed, saying very energetically that she just couldn't with 'all the negativity anymore'. Kurt and Mercedes were talking softer than they had begun, and he was glad for it. They didn't need to be arguing their issues in front of everyone in the choir room. It wasn't their business. Yet, Kurt still was talking in pretentious tones. Like Mercedes—beautiful, pure, sweet Mercedes was the scum of the earth. And just like that Sam was pissed off. _

_She had sped walked away soon after Sam's anger intensified. It was plain to see that she was in tears and very, very upset. Sam dropped Quinn's hand. _

"_That's not right," He said, his jaw clenching and unclenching, "That's not right at all."_

_What reason did that little prick Kurt have for making his girl cry? What fucking entitlements do these idiots around here give people like Kurt and that other bitch Rachel to stomp all other her feelings? Did they have any idea what Mercedes went through on a daily basis? Did they know that she already hated herself enough without any of their help? His leg was bouncing uncontrollably because oh God he was so pissed. _

_And he had every right to be, someone just hurt his Promised One, dammit! Where he was from he could kill Kurt and Rachel for that and the other Elites wouldn't turn a cheek. Maybe he'd get a repercussion because Rachel was a girl, but nothing serious. More than that though, Sam was a man. Sam was a pissed off man that loved his woman and was about to hurt somebody because they hurt her. And it just wasn't fucking right. Kurt was a man, too. Regardless of Kurt's sexual orientation, he was a man. And men don't hurt women that can't defend themselves. No, he didn't literally punch Mercedes (if he had Sam would've killed him on the spot) but he fought her with words she couldn't protect herself from. She didn't even have a defense because she didn't remember. That wasn't right._

_Instead of being a man and calmly saying his piece to Mercedes and letting that be that, he hurt her. What kind of person did that? That little bitch, he was no worse that Rachel! _

"_Sam, are you alright?" Quinn had asked again, laying a hand on his shoulder, "You look like you're about to explode."_

"_Not right now Quinn." He answered, shaking her off. She gave him a hurt expression before turning away and mumbling that she didn't even know what his problem was. He didn't care._

_Everyone returned to their devices once Kurt had sat down next to Blaine. They were acting like nothing happened! And Mr. Schue took that moment to walk to the front of the class solemnly. _

"_Guys, we can't let this go on," He started. _

_Good, Sam thought, He was finally going to enforce some discipline! _

"_As your teacher I won't allow my students to hurt each other and hurt the environment. Kurt and Rachel, if you have an issue with someone come to me. Don't start arguments and make yourselves upset in the process. Attitude is not brutality. Instead of facing her problems and staying, Mercedes fled the scene over her guilt. It is sad to see what this glee club has become, and it reflects on me as a teacher. But as people, it is only when we look inside of ourselves that we find where it all went wrong. And we can all take blame for that."_

"_Once Mercedes is ready to show her face in here again, we will take her back with open arms because we are a family and that's what family does." Mr. Schue wiped the sour look off his face for something livelier. "Now, who wants to start the attitude assignment off?"_

_Are you kidding me? Sam thought. _This_ is what Mr. Schue calls bringing everyone together? _

_Blaine raised his hand to sing his solo and Mr. Schue smiled. Sam knew that this was the last straw. _

_He stood up. "Are you serious right now? Are you seriously going to let those two off with no kind of punishment after all the crap they caused?"_

_Quinn tugged on Sam's hand. "What are you doing?" She whispered harshly, "Sit down."_

"_I'm doing the right thing. Something everyone else in here has never heard of, apparently."_

_She rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, quit being a drama king. It's not a big deal, sit down."_

"_Yes it is." He practically snarled._

"_No one cares about Mercedes, Sam. You're making a mistake."_

_He resisted the urge to growl. "No I'm not, Quinn. Now let me go."_

_Everyone turned to look the commotion, amazed. While everyone was awestruck, Santana was fiendishly delighted. She clapped her hands together slowly. "Welcome to my world, Trouty Mouth. It's a world where nothing gets resolved, and everyone but little twits like Berry and Blaine shine. Hey, I can't say it's a pretty place but at least you arrived to reality."_

"_Sam have a seat and calm down. Can't you see that I'm doing the best I can? I'm keeping the peace." Mr. Schue said, looking at him. _

"_You can keep the peace and do your job at the same time, it's not a two way street." Sam argued, getting fed up. "I thought you had a zero tolerance for bullying. Those two instigated a fight and just bullied someone right out of this room and you're not going to do anything about it but tell us to start singing? Are you serious?"_

_Rachel promptly stood up, shaking her head. "Please Sam, you don't understand. Kurt and I were preventing drama, not starting it. Mercedes is the real troublemaker in all this, and guilty as she should be, she ran away. You've got it all wrong."_

"_I don't have it all wrong. You and him started it, and now Mr. Schue needs to finish it."_

_Santana laughed obnoxiously. "Do you really think Mr. Schue's gonna do something? He's not gonna do anything, baby face. You're delusional if you think so."_

"_Santana, please stop." Mr. Schue said, exasperated. "Sam, I'm gonna need you to sit down _please._"_

"_What is wrong with you people?" Sam asked, ignoring Schue and picking up his bag, "How can you let Kurt and Rachel bully you into not caring about your friend anymore?"_

"_Well," Artie spoke up, "They're not bullying us. We do care about Mercedes, but we've only heard one side of the story and she's not here to defend herself."_

_Tina nodded in agreement. "Yeah, if she's not here to stand up for herself what are we supposed to do?"_

"_You're supposed to seek out the truth! You're supposed to fight for what's right and all that BS you're always saying. You're supposed to go find her and bring her back here because she's your friend!"_

_Finn rolled his eyes. "You don't know her. You don't even know what she did."_

_Sam stared him dead in the face. "The better question is, do _you _know what she did? Or are you just following behind your girlfriend?"_

_Finn blinked, surprised. _

"_That's what I thought." He hitched his backpack on his shoulder and left the classroom, fed up and done._

It didn't take Sam long to find Mercedes as he walked down the hall fuming. He was upset but he knew he had to find her fast. Even if Mercedes didn't know him, he knew her. He knew that she might go off somewhere and hurt herself, because that's how she vented her anger. She didn't know differently because that's what she's always done.

She was sitting down with her knees pulled up to her chest in the 800 Hall. He had comforted her and probably came on too strong, but he didn't care. She needed it and he was more than happy to oblige. And when she was talking to him, he could tell that her eyes were unfocused and she was barely there with him. It struck Sam that Mercedes could possibly be starving. And not like 'I'm hungry and I'm gonna exaggerate and say I'm starving' hungry, but she was actually starving. He got her some chips because they were strangers and she probably didn't want to go anywhere to eat with him at that moment.

When she started talking about bagels and onion rolls he was pretty sure those Doritos were contaminated but then she blew him away with those amazing vocals that always brought him to his knees. That meant that his Mercy with no Mercy was back. So he let her leave—after getting her number—and went to go find Quinn. He had to do some damage control.

* * *

She was packing stuff in her locker and looking very annoyed. He approached her cautiously. "I know you're mad."

"I have to go work, Sam." She replied. "I have applications to Ivy League schools to fill out and I wanted to go visit Beth..."

Sam waited for Quinn to get to her point. She looked at him.

"What happened to you back there? What's going on?"

"Nothing." Sam said. She kept her eyes on him, searching his face unconvinced. "I was just pissed off because that whole class is ass backwards and no one even _notices _it. It's like they don't care what happens as long as they get a solo and that's bull—"

"Samuel." She said like his name was a brake. He stopped. "Seriously. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He answered, getting annoyed. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because you were acting weird, defending Mercedes like that. Like, your whole body was practically glowing and it freaked me out. It was strange. And I understand that you don't like how things were going but she's not that important. She shouldn't be to you, anyway. _I'm _the girlfriend."

"I'm fine. God, I just don't like seeing people getting treated like crap. Why is that so hard to believe?"

This time, Quinn was silent. And then she said, "It's not, but you should see the way you look at her sometimes. I see it. You can't keep your eyes off her and—and I don't know. I _love _you, Sam. I know you don't believe me because I have stuff to work on personally but I do. I love you more than I love myself. You're everything to me and I can't—can't—I don't know what I'll do if…do you like her?"

"Quinn for Christ's sake I was pissed off! What does that have to do with Mercedes?" His voice was defensive and sharp, and they both knew it.

"Everything! It has everything to do with her because I know you like her."

Sam shook his head.

"You went to go find her when you left, didn't you?" She asked.

"I did, but Quinn, I…" He didn't know what to say. And that answered her question better than any words.

"Not it's fine. Whatever. I have classes to prepare for and books to read, and Yale is looking at me in a good light. Which I don't want to ruin by slacking off and being stressed out over a boy that clearly doesn't want me."

"Slacking off?"

"Yeah." She said zipping up her backpack. "It's been fun and all, but I'm done playing a game I can't win. I've been down this road before and I refuse to make the same mistake twice." There was something final in her words—emotionless, distant and sad—that had Sam thinking she was breaking up with him.

"Quinn." He said quietly.

"Don't," She said, shaking her head and looking away. Sam knew she was crying—if not, she was on the verge of tears. But she didn't look at him because they both knew what came next, some form of 'I'm sorry' and she didn't want to hear it. Especially not now, especially not from him. "Please just…"

But no words followed. Quinn just let the sentence hang open, waiting for Sam to do the hard work and fix it. It was much easier then saying that she didn't want to lose him, when they both knew she already did. And in all honesty, she never had him. Quinn slammed her locker door and walked away, not that it surprised Sam. It didn't matter that he didn't finish the sentence. What did she care if he didn't finish it? Who cared that this conversation wasn't done? She was.

* * *

**Thanks to: _Oxford, eowyn, AntoniaSayonara, Ladij, carebearcaryn21, krazykay23, TeamSethLover (watermelons, really? Lol), Jujubee58, Kimpa7809, and Lovesamcedesstory _for reviewing last chapter…**

**And thank you to them &: _cr8ziigurl, thinkur101, Haitianm, Blackrose, NCC-0419, and abbiecarr, _for reviewing chapter 11 as well! I felt so bad last chapter for leaving some of you out, and I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings.**

**So—how did you feel about Sam's anger? The maybe break-up that just occurred, and what will the other glee members do? Have they done anything already? I have some money on Santana, lol. And what about Quinn? Do you feel sorry for her or not?**

*****little side note*** Who do you think would sing the lyrics at the beginning of the chapter? Quinn, Sam, (change lyrics to fit his gender) or Mercedes? If you guess right, there's a prize of sorts...but you must choose wisely ;)**

**Please review!**


	14. Unthinkable

**Why give up before we try,**

**Feel the lows before the highs—clip our wings before we fly away?**

**I can't say I came prepared; I'm suspended in the air**

**Won't you come be in the sky with me?**

…

* * *

Sam meditated inside his room. He had just come home after the fight with Quinn and he had decided to follow her lead. If she wanted to ignore him he'd ignore her, and vice versa. He cared about Quinn, he really did, but he didn't have time for her drama. Sam would try and make his wrongs right soon and resolve whatever was bothering her, but right now he had bigger problems to attend to.

He sat, eyes closed and muscles pulsing searching for an Elite. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, but with the needle on the run and hiding from you. He knew his name was as good as dirt in that world, but he still tried to find one of his old friends to Reach to. Most of them, like Mark, hated the air he breathed and wouldn't respond to him. Or there were Elites that didn't hate him but didn't want to rock the boat by saying that. So there were Elites that hated him or were too cowardly to like him. Still, Sam held to the belief that there had to be someone out there willing to hear his side of the story. He meditated for a good two hours before someone responded to him.

_**Sam.**_

He smiled at his success._ Who is this? _

_**Damien.**_

Sam wracked his mind, trying to remember a Damien. _Do I know you?_ He asked.

_**Yes. Back in Promise Training Camp when we were still tykes, we shared cubbies. Remember?**_

Sam did, but vaguely. That was a long time ago, after all. A few eons back, maybe. _Sure. But do you know why I'm Reaching for you?_

_**If it's the same reason why everyone here hates you, I think I have an idea. **_

_Well then. You may hate me after I ask this __Damien, __but—_

_**No. I know what you're going to ask for. I know what you want. However, do you know what I want?**_

_No, I don't. _

Sam could see Damien smirking almost. _**Didn't think you did. See, I know you're searching hopelessly for a way to keep your Promise alive whilst trying to be with her. Even after Mark told you there was no way, you're still trying in vain. Maybe it's the human in you that's making your decisions now, but if you want this to work you're gonna have to disregard that part of you. And if you want my help you're gonna have to give as much as you take.**_

_Okay, what do you want?_

_**It's something only you can help me with. **_

He rolled his eyes._ And what would that be?_ Sam could barely help himself, much less an elite. What could Damien possibly want?

_**You'll know soon enough. I can't explain here because this isn't a good time or place for us to discuss the matter. I'll tell you when I can find a way to get to you that's not through Reaching. **_

_There's no way to contact one another other than Reaching, Damien. You'll be looking for solutions for a long time. That could take years._

_**I don't think it will. In fact, I think you know how I can do it.**_

Sam rolled his eyes. _Are you crazy? I don't even know how to help my Promised One that has a target on her back! I don't know how to get here without Reaching._

_**Let me tell you something Samuel: The Elites are Viewing you. They're tracking your every move. Didn't you ever realize that? How else do you think Mark could follow your progress on Earth and know where you were? How did Mark manage to come for you without Reaching? How do you think he got there? Do you have any clue at all?**_

The wheels turned in his head._ A human._

_**Ah ha. You seem to still have that Elite touch.**_

_That's nice and all, but the only way to get here is through your Promised One. _

_**Not necessarily. You were just so blindsided by your Promise that you didn't notice all the other humans with open minds on earth.**_

Sam bit his lip. _So you're going to get here by another mortal?_

_**Yes. And when I do, you'll know it. **_

His insides suddenly turned cold. _Hold on. If they're tracking me right now, how do I know if they're following this Reach or not? Shouldn't they be able to track this too?_

_**They should, and ordinarily they do. But I'm shadowing you right now, Sam. There are things we're capable of that you never took the time to figure out. And it's about time—half Elite or not—that you learned them. That's why I'm here. So you can help yourself and me too. I'll be Watching you, and when the time comes for us to meet, I'll drop you a clue.**_

Sam didn't get a chance to reply. Every trace he extended out to Damien was gone.

* * *

Mercedes woke up in a daze. The morning light was burning her eyes and the air was cooler than usual. Her heart quivered, a crashbang in her chest. She felt like going back to sleep. It was the first day of many days that she had gone almost twenty four hours without eating anything. She wouldn't count the Doritos Sam got her, those were a peace offering that didn't have calories waiting to control her. But that chicken and the salad that crawled up her throat last night, that probably was making her dizzy.

Dizziness meant that she was back on track. Dizziness was the weight dropping, her blood pressure rising. Dizzy was the first sign that Bulimia returned with a bang. People called it a disorder, she called it stability. She couldn't control her parent's inevitable split, but she could control this. She couldn't stop glee club from ostracizing her, but she could control the food that went and came out of her mouth.

The scale in her bathroom slid out from its hiding place and lured her in. 187.04. Last time she checked she was 193 point something. For someone her size, this wasn't bad, but it was still unacceptable. Her goal was 120 pounds of bones with muscle and 10 % body fat. 120 was the space between her thighs Quinn had with the boyfriend Mercedes didn't dare to go after. A boyfriend would be a great distraction right now.

Now wasn't the time to dwell though. Today was a school day and she had to get ready. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and braided her hair back. No makeup or lip-gloss, she had goals to reach. Something was touching her shoulder and she looked down to find the end of her braid tickling her arm. She wondered if her mom would encourage her to get a trim if her hair continued to grow like this. Mercedes hoped not, this was the only thing she liked about herself.

It was the beginning of December and barely cold enough to wear a jacket. Still a bra, hoodie, and jeans slipped on her body. Her body was changing for the better, and shivering was just a side effect of it. Normal people wouldn't understand.

When Mercedes went downstairs ten minutes later she smelled breakfast before she saw it. Coffee, bacon, pancakes, and syrup assaulted her nose. This was mom's 'I'm sorry for wrecking your idea of family' flag of truce and they both knew it. Mercedes sat down at the dining table with a mug of black coffee and tried not to heave.

"Morning." She grumbled.

"Good morning." Her mom replied, "Do you want some eggs? You know I hate them and if you don't want them I'm putting 'em up." She gestured to the pair of white ovals sitting on the counter beside her.

"No I'm fine."

Mercedes watched her mom put the eggs away, dancing around the meaning of the big breakfast sitting amongst them. She knew that her mom wanted to pretend nothing happened and apologize for it simultaneously. _No. It wasn't that easy. _Mercedes let her mom sit down before badgering her with questions.

"So are you gonna call dad anytime soon?"

Mrs. Jones partially choked on her coffee. "No honey, I'm not."

"Why?"

She took a bite of pancake and tore into the bacon on her plate. "This tastes pretty good," She deflected, "I hope you make yourself a plate before it gets cold."

"What did dad do that's so bad he can't come home?"

"I'd rather not talk about that with you," Her mom said. "Not right now."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and sipped her black steaming coffee. "Is it about money?"

"No! Is that what Cordell told you?"

"Nope. I'm just throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks."

"Well stop because I don't think this is the right time to be talking about it." She dug back into her breakfast before looking up at Mercedes. "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Mercedes finished her coffee and picked up her mug to put it in the sink. "I'm not hungry."

"Did you ever come back downstairs to eat after supper?"

"No."

Mrs. Jones stared at her daughter. "Well then you definitely need to eat. Have a couple pancakes."

"I don't want pancakes."

"And bacon, you didn't finish your plate last night."

Mercedes resisted growling. "I don't want any of that. I ate at dinner, you saw me. Tell me why dad left."

"Stop changing the subject. You need to eat." Her mom demanded. Despite everything, she felt her heart jump in her chest. Some things are instinctual, unshakeable. Her mother had a power over Mercedes and she felt the pull no matter what she did. Despite that, she was angry and couldn't help the next words that she said.

"Did dad cheat on you?"

The room froze and Mercedes wondered vaguely if those words just came out of her mouth. The look of astonishment and betrayal on her mom's face answered that question. It made her heart clench and her skin crawl. Mercedes tried not to think that her father could have possibly been unfaithful. If he had, she was done with him. All bets were off. If her dad cheated on her mom, Mercedes would never forgive him. No—forget never forgiving him, Mercedes wouldn't ever want to see his face again.

Mrs. Jones' blackberry started ringing on the table beside her. Instead of answering, her mom rolled her neck, rose from her place at the dining room table, and sighed. "I'm going to work, and you're going to school. We'll discuss this later."

She didn't need to be told twice. Mercedes was out the door before her mom could leave the room.

* * *

Mercedes spent the day by herself and didn't talk to anyone. The only friends she had were in glee and thus far no one tried to talk to her. And she was sad to admit it, but it hurt her feelings tremendously. Mercedes did know what to expect, maybe someone to come to her rescue that wasn't someone's boyfriend or a stranger, she didn't know—but she expected _something._

So by the time the lunch bell rang and she was packing up her bag, Mercedes was upset. Out of all the people in that glee club, _no one _came to talk to her? She shook her head and dizzily started walking to the library. Mercedes was so hungry maybe it was a good thing no one approached her. She might pass out or bite their head off. To eat.

It was when she was at the overpass, mere feet away from the library entrance did someone approach her. Unpredictably and unexpectedly.

"Wheezy!"

Mercedes blinked. She turned her head. There, standing a bit away from the overpass was Santana Lopez. Practically shouting. At her.

"Wheezy!" She repeated, and then waved like Mercedes couldn't see her. "Hey! Over here!"

Mercedes narrowed her eyes and looked behind herself, just to make sure it wasn't a joke. The last person she would've expected to seek her out would be…not Santana. _Come on, _she mouthed, waving again. She turned and walked over to Santana to see what this could possibly be about.

"Yeah?" Mercedes asked, hitching her backpack on her shoulder.

Santana rolled her eyes. "What, you seriously expected me to ignore you after that bad bitch move you pulled yesterday?"

"Well that's what everyone else is doing."

"I'm not everyone else, Wheezy."

"No?" Mercedes asked, sounding harsher than she meant to.

Santana looked surprised. "I'm not _even_ going to respond to that."

"Sorry."

"So let me guess," She said, waving off Mercedes' apology, "This attitude is Trouty Mouth's fault right?"

Mercedes looked up at her. "What?"

"Oh please girl, don't try to play me after the little scene he put on yesterday."

"What are you talking about?"

"Frog chops was defending your honor yesterday in glee after everything went down. He hasn't told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

"Oh Lord, am I gonna have to go over this again? Okay, here we go…"

Santana stood, animatedly rehashing everything that happened yesterday from Rachel and Kurt to Sam's outburst. Mercedes' hand covered her mouth halfway through the oration when Santana repeated what Sam said to Mr. Schue, word for word. She never would've guessed Sam would say those things about her, and by the time Santana was done Mercedes was smiling goofily.

"Wow, I didn't know he cared that much." She looked down and tried to hide her grin.

"I didn't know you were that oblivious."

"What are you talking about? How was I supposed to know all that went down after I left? I'm not psychic."

"No, not that Wheezy. _Sam._" Santana raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. "Do you _really _not realize how hot he is for you? He practically had a heart attack after Gayberry chewed you out."

She bit her lip. "You're lying."

"Why would I? I don't give a fuck about who Trouty wants to fuck!"

"Quit shouting! God!" She lowered her voice. "And in any case, he doesn't want to…do that with me." Mercedes was aware that she was no Quinn Fabray. That's who he wanted, that's who he was dating. Not Mercedes.

"Maybe not in those rags you call clothing, but he sure as hell was eyeing you yesterday. I've never seen a guy look at a girl like that unless she was naked. Or halfway there. Sam couldn't even pretend to pay attention to Quinn because you were so upset. Didn't you notice that? I mean, It's hard for him to concentrate anyway because he's always eye fucking you, but yesterday he took it to whole other level entirely. Granted you don't look that inviting in a hoodie and jeans right now, you're not an ugly girl. And Sam would probably bone you anyway; he's that thirsty for you."

Mercedes shook her head. "Stop. You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being realistic. Anyway, talking about Sam's desperation is not why I'm here. I'm here because I wanted to talk to you about something. Something that will make glee club look like child's play in comparison. Something that I wanted to do, but with you by my side."

"And what would that be?"

"Joining the trouble tones."

Mercedes' face contorted into confusion. "What?"

"The trouble tones are this all girl glee club the new teacher Mrs. Shelby started. It's not anything big yet because she just started recruiting, but I think it would be cool for us to join."

Mercedes didn't mind, she didn't have anything else going on. "Yeah it sounds cool, I'll look into it. But what about you? You're still in New Directions."

Santana smirked. "Not for long, I'm gonna quit today."

"Why? You have no reason to, everyone loves you in there."

"And I love them back, but it's time for me to shine."

"Santana, I don't know. Maybe you should think about it more, this seems a bit reckless. New Directions could turn on you like they did me. Do you _really _want that?"

Santana shrugged. "If they really love me, they'll love me finally getting the limelight. And if they don't, then it wasn't really real to begin with. And besides, we could be the co-captains of an all-girl glee club! For once, we could get the exposure we deserve! Isn't that what you want, isn't that what you were singing about yesterday?"

"Well…"

"Well nothing! Quit making excuses and just say _yes Santana._"

Mercedes smiled, shaking her head incredulously. "_Yes Santana._"

* * *

**Okay, just getting this out tonight because I have a busy couple of days coming up and I won't be able to update until at least Sunday. I wanted to leave you beauties something until then.**

**THANK YOU:** **Mercypowaaa, msjei09, AntoniaSayonara, carebearcaryn21, mh, Kimpa7809, Jujubee58, TheAeroRee, Blackrose, and NCC-0419 for the sweet lines you dropped me. I enjoy them profusely.**

**And to everyone who leaves long reviews, you're legendary. (Oxford, TeamSethLover, Krazykay, Zeejack, Ladij, Haitianm, LovesamcedesStory)**

**What do you think about Santana approaching Mercedes? What about Sam and Damien's exchange? And the weird thing that happened between Mercy & her mom?**

_******If you answered last week's question correctly, your prize will be coming in time. It's a surprise.******_

**Please review!**


	15. Something about Doritos

_**I found a man I can trust  
And boy, I believe in us  
I am terrified to love for the first time  
Can you see that I'm bound in chains?  
I've finally found my way**_

_**I am bound to you**_

* * *

The rest of the day went better after Mercedes' conversation with Santana. It was nice knowing someone had her back since everyone else didn't. And if they did, they hadn't made a move to show it yet. They probably never would, cowardice was a plague in that classroom. Mercedes couldn't be sad about it though, because if they didn't care then she didn't care. It hurt, yes, but she was never best friends with anyone in there except—and they hated each other now. So she didn't expect anything from anyone.

Mercedes had never had a problem with being unwanted. If she had, she would have finished herself off with a kitchen knife already. And that wasn't an exaggeration. Mercedes was always unwanted, that didn't bother her. But being left behind—that was another story. That hurt more than anything. Kurt got to run away and flock to his theatrical buddies and pretend she didn't exist. What did she get? Left behind.

There was no one to flock to for her—no friends or family, especially with the home life she had now—and nothing she could use to console herself except music. Music was glee club, and New Directions wasn't an option. So that left her with nothing. She had nothing, no one.

And then Santana approached her with the Trouble Tones, an all-girl glee club that stood for confidence and women's rights. She liked the sound of anything related to singing on a stage in front of people, but Trouble Tones? She wasn't a feminist, she had little to no confidence, and she had nothing to offer them but her voice.

It was one of the only things Mercedes liked about herself. The silver flute that was her vocal cords and her hair were the only things that gave her confidence. And that was what made her decide to go with Santana to Ms. Shelby that afternoon. She didn't care that it was a farfetched idea and the Trouble Tones may never get past sectionals, it was sure as hell worth a try. For sure.

Because Mercedes knew, she knew too damn well what would send her over the bridge to no return. If she couldn't sing—if she had to be without the only thing that brought her true happiness—her life wasn't worth living. She couldn't think of anything she wanted more than to let her voice be heard. Well, there was one thing.

But that was a pathetic thought and he was taken, dammit.

Mercedes checked her missed text this morning, and it was just Sam saying that he wasn't still babysitting and would love to call her, but by then her family's fuckery had her in bed not-sleeping. She would try and apologize later, and that her stomach in all kinds of good and bad knots, but what was the point? Really, what was the point? He had probably forgotten all about her. He had willingly put his relationship with Quinn in jeopardy to appease to Mercedes' needs, and that was more than enough. It was more than anyone else had done for her.

She couldn't let herself cling to him and have his girlfriend dump him because he was too gentlemanly to tell Mercedes to go away, she just _couldn't. _It wasn't right. Sam was nice, and he didn't deserve to be dumped simply because he was too _nice. _That wouldn't be the reason Quinn would claim, of course, but what else was there? And like Santana, Quinn was cruel like the sky was blue. Sam had taken to Quinn the moment he had laid eyes on her, and Mercedes wasn't going to screw that up. No matter how much she loved spending time with Sam, no matter how amazing she felt around him, it wasn't worth ruining anything he had because she was enamored.

It was kind of sad, really, that now the only thing keeping her sane was music. Not as sad as the grumbling in her stomach that during her fifth hour made itself present more than ever before. But she wasn't hungry. She couldn't be hungry when she was overweight. And it was weird to keep holding her breath to keep the grumbles away. It was making her dizzier.

"Mercedes are you paying attention?" Her chemistry teacher was asking, making everyone else in the room stare at her. She was pulled out of her thoughts.

"Yeah…I'm just um…" Mercedes laid her hand on her forehead. "Can I go to the nurse?"

Mrs. Warner observed the sickly looking teen. She quickly nodded and gestured Mercedes to her desk to get a hall pass. She didn't want a fainter on her hands.

"Come back if you feel better, and if not, when you get home go to the school website later to get the assignment."

Mercedes nodded numbly, not really listening but hearing Mrs. Warner's voice. She took the pass and left the room, walking lethargically down the hall and to the closest vending machine. Fuck the nurse. She was searching for her and Sam's vending machine, the one he took her to yesterday. Was it only yesterday that all that crap happened? It felt like a week ago, at the least.

And her and Sam's vending machine? Really? Mercedes blushed, pushing the shame down. She should be allowed to think whatever she wanted without being ashamed. It wasn't like she was gonna carve it into the metal, for God's sake. She came across it quickly and realized that the vending machine was only a few classrooms away from Mrs. Shelby's room. Good. Mercedes didn't feel like walking another long distance feeling this bad.

She was so tired from the walk, and so miserably hungry that she just stood there, shuffling from foot to foot. To eat or not to eat? That was the question. Mercedes decided on getting Doritos, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Sam had got her some yesterday. Once she had them she went over and sat on the floor, her back against the cool wall and closed her eyes. She still didn't have to eat them, even now, as she held the bag with shaky hands. She could be strong and throw them away, wasting a dollar but gaining willpower. She could.

Yet her hands pressed the bag together and pulled, releasing the processed nacho cheese smell into the air. Mercedes almost dumped the bag in her mouth but controlled herself, eating two at a time. Unsurprisingly, she was almost done in five minutes. It was something about Doritos.

* * *

About a minute after her mouth was done chewing and her chip bag was empty, she had the sensation to take another dollar out and buy more. She promptly stopped herself. Mercedes was still dizzy, still hungry, but the weakness was gone. She could function more properly this way. She felt like she had drank a margarita and the buzz was just starting—fuzzy and warm and not completely there. But still at the surface, enough to convince people she wasn't on drugs. She was still rubbing her head when she heard footsteps and then, "Mercedes?"

Mercedes opened her eyes and there was Sam, looking concerned and perfect and sexy and _again_—not hers. "Hi." She said.

Sam peered at her a little closely. "You okay? You look like you're—"

"I'm tired," She said, cutting him off. "I'm just really, tired. I'm fine."

Mercedes could tell he wasn't completely convinced, but thankfully he didn't press the issue. "What are you doing here?"

"I left class…" Mercedes stopped herself before she said that she left because she wasn't feeling well, as that would only contradict her previous statement. "…and now I'm here."

"Hold on." He said.

She nodded and watched as he headed over to the vending machines and bought water. Mercedes bit her lip, hoping it wasn't for her because Sam couldn't keep being sweet like this and expect a platonic relationship. She wouldn't know how to keep it that way, Mercedes could barely control herself. Quinn had better start worrying.

He bent down and retrieved his change, then started back over to her. _Good Lord, _she thought as he approached, _I don't have the energy for this today. _There wasn't anything she could do, though. It wasn't like she could just get up and leave like a rude bitch, but _God, _she couldn't be a good girl and not gawk at him when he was so nice and looked so _irresistible_ and—

"Hey," He said, standing over Mercedes before crouching and slipping into the same position beside her, bottled water in hand. "You skipping class or something?"

Sam handed her the water and she took it timidly, trying not to groan at the contact of his warm hand and the cold bottle. She had taken care of herself just last night and this was beyond ridiculous.

"No, I'm not. I left class early and now I'm here."

"Hmm, leaving class and not coming back…sounds a lot like skipping to me."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Thanks for the water. You've got to stop getting me stuff I don't ask for, though. I might get a complex."

"Then ask for it." He replied, his bright green eyes piercing her. Ugh. That again.

"I don't really know you, Sam. I can't just—" She stopped herself. "I don't need you to—to take care of me like this."

"And I'm gonna have to repay you." Mercedes added.

Sam was looking very curiously at her, not actually paying attention to the ramble.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your hair…you should probably rebraid it."

Mercedes reached down her stomach to find the end of her braid with a sigh, knowing she looked like an absolute mess. In her hoodie and jeans with jacked up hair, how could Sam ever see her like the perfectly dressed, perfect Quinn? She snatched the elastic off her braid and quickly undid it, running her fingers through it to straighten all the tangles out. After letting out a long breath she started to braid it back again. It was so awkward with Sam staring like that.

"Is there something in my hair?"

"No," He murmured, tapping his knee and not taking his eyes off her hair. "It looks nice like that…down. It's pretty."

"It's puffy and out of control." She told him, rolling her eyes before wrapping the elastic band around its end. "That's why it's typically in a braid. Even ponytails look funny."

"It was down yesterday."

"Yesterday was different."

"You're right," Sam agreed. "It looks prettier today."

Mercedes blushed and looked away. "You shouldn't say those things, they're not—Quinn will murder you. And you're only being nice."

"Me and Quinn aren't a thing anymore."

"What?" Mercedes sounded too eager even to her own ears. "I mean, what?"

Sam chuckled, and Mercedes flushed again. "Quinn and I, we're not really together. Not right now, she has to focus on her studies and…I understand."

Mercedes felt a rush of guilt wash over herself. She _knew _it. Sam was too nice to Mercedes yesterday—or maybe some other pathetic girl like her—and Quinn got nonsensically jealous about it and dumped him. That _bitch. _Why would she give him up? Was she insane? Did every guy she went out with that helped someone out have to get dumped? Was she that insecure, or was she just good at being a bitch?

"I'm so sorry, Sam." Mercedes started, "someone should've warned you, Quinn's senseless. I…she'll dump her boyfriends for no reason at all really, and I'm sorry. If you hadn't…went after me yesterday, she probably wouldn't have overreacted and—"

"Mercedes." Sam said quietly, and she stopped. "It's okay. And believe me when I say this, _I don't care._"

She gawked at him. "You don't?"

He stared at something on her face before shrugging. "Nah, I don't. It's not like I wanted to marry her or anything. We were just dating and now we're not."

Mercedes bit her lip. Sam reached out to touch something on her face and pulled away. Mercedes was immediately horrified.

"What—is there something on my face?"

He shook his head. "No…" He answered, his voice low, "You have a beauty mark right below your left eye and…I've never seen it before."

"Oh," She blushed. Would the blushing ever end? "Why would you? Notice it, I mean. It's not like you've been keeping tabs on my face."

"How would you know?" He joked, flashing a smile.

Mercedes was struck then, by her conversation earlier with Santana. She didn't believe any of it, not the part of 'Sam's thirst' or anything else preceding what she said, but something did stick out. And it had nothing to do with Sam at all. _I'm not everyone else, Wheezy. _And maybe that's what this was like. Maybe Sam was nothing like everyone else and didn't find her revolting. He kept coming back, didn't he? Sam could truly want to be friends with her and that was…scary. It didn't make any sense, but Sam kept finding her and buying her stuff and telling her things friends would say.

But why?

She wasn't a model, she wasn't Quinn or Santana or Brittany. She wasn't anything special. Mercedes didn't look special or feel special and she knew whoever kept this wonderful man's time and attention had to be just that. She couldn't give him anything, couldn't serve him any purpose and yet he kept coming back. And it didn't make sense. Sam was beautiful, charming, sweet, and truly something extraordinary. Mercedes was none of those things. He needed to reevaluate his taste in people because it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he could do _so _much better. There were other girls without her horrible disposition that deserved his attention. And it made her feel _awful_.

"Sam, you need to stop this." Mercedes said then.

"What?"

She gestured between the two of them. "This, this—whatever it is. Stop. I can't give you anything and you won't gain anything and you'll just keep losing people over me. I know Quinn freaked out because you came to my rescue yesterday, I know it. _I know Quinn. _It's what she does and you didn't deserve to lose a good thing because of me. I'm not worth it, and it's not worth it."

"Why wouldn't you be worth having as my friend?" He asked softly. "You don't deserve the treatment you get and I know you've probably felt otherwise for a while, but you're worth more than you think, Mercy."

Mercedes shook her head. "I know what I'm worth, and it's not this. You _saw _those people yesterday. I—I'm fine though. It doesn't bother me."

She felt Sam's hand, soft and white reach out and squeeze her hand. "You _really _don't think anyone could ever like you, do you?"

"They have no reason to, Sam. And I'm not having a pity party, it's just a fact."

"I like you," Sam said thoughtfully. "I like you a lot, actually."

Mercedes looked away, feeling uncomfortable and tongue-tied. What did he mean, anyway? As a friend or… no. Of course not. Still, Mercedes had to be sure what he meant. "You mean as a friend, right?"

He smiled, studying her face and squeezed her hand. "No."

Her heart literally stopped. It stopped and stuttered back to life, irregularly and painfully. "Don't lie to me."

"Why would I lie to you?"

There was nothing to reply with, nothing to get him to see the light. Maybe he was feeling like being a hero that day and making her feel good. But this couldn't be for real and it had to be a phase. Sam would soon realize this was a hopeless circumstance.

"You wouldn't. Y-You _shouldn't_. Don't lie to me Sam. You don't want me, not really, please stop being so nice. You shouldn't like me, I mean."

"Why not? Why wouldn't I want you?"

"Because!" Mercedes exclaimed, getting frustrated. "Have you _looked_ in a mirror lately, Sam? You're—you're so—so—and nice and—" She wasn't making any sense and they both knew it.

Sam watched Mercedes plead her case like telling her he liked her—which was a far cry from the truth, he _loved _her, actually—was a death sentence. He would've been offended if he didn't already know she was capable of reciprocating the feeling.

"There are so many prettier girls that are nicer and more deserving of someone like you. You could have _anyone _else. Anyone." She finished.

"I don't want just anyone, and I don't want anyone else. I want you, if you'll have me."

_If you'll have me? What? _Was she in another dimension? What kind of—and—_if you'll have me? _If _she _would have _him? _Like it would be a privilege for Sam to have Mercedes, and not the other way around. Like Mercedes wouldn't have to do some intense prayer and walk on water in order to ever have a chance with someone like Sam.

"Don't you have a class to be in?" She asked lamely.

He laughed. "I guess I'm like you and I'm 'not-skipping'."

Mercedes mumbled in response and he rubbed circles into her hand. "I know this seems sudden, but trust me it's not. It's not a spur of the moment idea I had to spring this on you; I've noticed you for a while. I know you don't believe me and I know that I'm gonna have to work at this, but I don't care. I want you. And you don't have to say yes and treat me differently for my benefit. You don't have to like me because I like you, Mercedes. I just wanted you to know. And I know you don't believe I could ever like you, but give me a chance to show you that it's more than possible. You make me happy and I could make you happy. I _know_ I can make you happy."

"Sam don't—" Mercedes said, feeling her eyes water. "You're gonna make me cry."

"I don't want to make you cry, Mercy. You've done enough crying. I want to make you smile and laugh and be _ecstatic._ You're beautiful and I just want to show you you don't deserve to hate yourself." _Not when I love you. _

Why did that sound so familiar? Why did it feel like she heard it before? And she knew she must've, people don't just hand her compliments daily. Maybe someone had said it before and she couldn't remember. It wasn't like her mind sharp. She forgot things by the hour, by the _minute. _This whole encounter with Sam made her forget her name practically.

"Have you…" Mercedes decided to just go with it and ask for once, "I can't remember many things, so please don't judge me but, have you said that before? I just…I feel like I've heard it and—"

_You're devastatingly beautiful, Mercedes. I just want to show you you are. _Her mind was reeling.

Sam squeezed her hand, giving her a tender look and biting his lip. "I've said it before. Once."

"But I—I can't remember…when was that, Sam?"

He looked so sad at that moment she wanted to cry all over again. "It wasn't that long ago, though I understand. You don't have to remember."

She _wanted _to remember though! If Sam had ever said something like that to her she'd think she would remember, but she _didn't. _Why couldn't she remember something so crucial? Was her mind that messed up?"Okay."

"Hey," Sam said, pulling her attention away from her thoughts. "Let me take you out tonight."

"Sam I don't think that's a good idea." She started to argue, feeling overwhelmed.

"No, just to the movies. Nothing fancy, unless that's what you want. I'll keep it casual so you don't feel pressured. Come on, please?"

Mercedes wanted to give in to him so badly and see what would happen and where it could all go. She wanted to _so_ badly_. _But she couldn't because he had just gotten out of a relationship for God's sake! She couldn't go jumping on anything that would take her because she was so deprived. It made her look pathetic.

"You just got out of a relationship with Quinn." She said flatly, voicing her thoughts.

He shook his head and wiped the hand that wasn't holding hers down his face. "Would you _please _quit bringing up Quinn? No, better yet—from now on I am a Quinn-free zone. I refuse to talk about her, think about her, and you should do the same. She has nothing to do with what we have. Nothing. Okay?"

"I'm only saying this because—"

"Nope." He interjected. "I don't care. No Quinn anything. Now please, say yes to the movies."

She raised her eyebrows, surprised by his forwardness. "What time?"

"Seven okay?"

She nodded.

"I can't wait."

Mercedes looked up at the digital clock not that far away from where they were. Sixth hour would start soon, and she and Santana had auditions with Ms. Shelby to get through. The idea of going to the movies with Sam Evans felt like going to a parallel universe. But yeah, she had to agree with him. She couldn't wait either.

* * *

**THANK YOU: LovesamcedesStory, NCC-0419, Ladij, Haitianm, Zeejack, Jujubee58, Oxford (I really enjoy how insightful your reviews are, really), Krazykay (you're really going in on Damien, lol), carebearcaryn21, arybby21, Blackrose, Guest, TeamSethLover (lol, did Sam up his game now? God, your reviews are hilarious), and eowyn.**

**All of your reviews keep me going. I'm not exaggerating, this chapter was so hard to write and I just kept thinking that it wouldn't be fair to give up because this story deserves to be told. **

**Anyway, anyone excited for Mercedes and Santana's auditions coming up next chapter? What do you think they'll sing? How about the Samcedes date? How do you think **_**that's **_**going to turn out? And what about the Quinn-free zone? Lol.**

**Please review!**


	16. Unexpectedly Amazing

_**A little bit of naughty, is a little bit nice  
she's a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice…**_

* * *

Sam spent the next day of school in a daze. Teachers were talking, classes went by, and people approached him, but he paid little attention to it. He didn't need the education, he didn't need the experience, he didn't need new friends, he didn't need any of it. And he wasn't on Earth for that. Sam had the knowledge of a regular human with a PhD, and beyond that he was quite intelligent. But then again all Elites were. He was from a different dimension where the immortals learned all their education in their first fifty years of existence, and every year after that was consumed by Elitist duties and keeping tabs on their Promise.

They called their mates a Promise because that's exactly what they were: A promise of everlasting love and happiness after all the years spent taking care of their responsibilities. Elites mated their Promises after they passed on and joined them in Dorado, had their offspring soon after that, and then gave their young up to begin the cycle again. Sam didn't know who his parents truly were and it didn't bother him one bit. Immortals didn't get emotionally attached to biological strangers. Besides, he had guidance and support all around him growing up. Everyone was family in Elitist.

After a while most of them had rampant lust and fooled around with each other as they waited for their Promise to acknowledge their existence. It helped ease their minds and become skilled lovers for their soul mate to enjoy, but Samuel never fooled around with anyone because he wanted passion in his lovemaking. He knew all the logistics of sex and mating and pleasing his woman, but he didn't put his knowledge into practice. He just couldn't direct the lust he had for Mercedes Grace Jones onto another and act out his frustrations. It felt like cheating to him.

Sam was different from the others. He _couldn't_ want anybody else like that; it was just a physical impossibility. He couldn't make himself pretend otherwise. He couldn't pretend that he didn't think of anything but Mercedes Jones. His _Mercy _that had no mercy for him and hated herself. It tore him apart. Sam didn't know why she hated herself so much. He didn't know if it was really anger that molded itself into self-loathing. Sam's watched her ever since he got the OK to check on his Promise when she was twelve. Mercedes was an angry girl, not because it was in her nature to be angry but because she was exposed to a lot of animosity growing up. She was constantly left behind, constantly made to feel unwanted by others, and she didn't know why. Sam didn't understand why either.

It made her angry.

It made him sad.

The first time he saw Mercedes puke was the first time she made herself puke. Her parents had argued that night and sent her up to her room to get away from the spitfire. They thought it was the parental thing to do. She agreed to go upstairs and act as if she couldn't hear them screaming at each other. They didn't tell her goodnight, didn't say they loved her. Mercedes was livid, and mumbled such to herself. She tried calling her best friend at the time—Kurt the Pansy Hummel—and he blew her off because he was watching The Sound of Music and would have to listen to her drama later. She pretended that he didn't just hurt her feelings.

Before Sam could fully register what she was doing, she was in her bathroom gagging, fingers shoved down her throat. Most of everything she had eaten was splashed into the toilet. Tears spilled onto her cheeks because it hurt, but everything else hurt more. Purging was a different flavor of hurt. She had straightened up and wiped her face off with toilet paper, erasing the nastiness her face had become. Mercedes rinsed her mouth out and brushed her teeth before slipping under her bed covers, shaking and whimpering because her first purge was the hardest. She was thirteen then.

By the time Mercedes was a freshman she had become a pro, hiding her coughing noises behind bathroom vent fans and running water. She had gotten so good at abusing her body all she needed to do was push her stomach muscles a bit to get the job done. Though she preferred using her right hand's index and middle finger, that were lined with scratches and bruises that never healed.

It tore Sam apart.

It tore Mercedes' insides apart.

She acted like it didn't bother her that her hair was getting thinner, her cheeks were getting puffy and everything made her sick. Mercedes acted like it was normal for _every fucking food_ under the sun to make her nauseous, even though it wasn't. Every time her heart would beat erratically she swore that she was just tired. Even though she was terrified. It scared her to the point where she tried to stop. She tried to recover, many times actually, when she realized that her stomach acid was affecting her voice. She loved her voice. Sam loved her voice.

She still couldn't stop, and Sam almost hated her for it.

He hated the universe instead.

The Others told him to get over his lovesick self and just wait until she passed on. She would be happy in Paradise, meet him once his duties were over, live happily ever after, yada ya. He couldn't let her die in misery, not when her future held so much potential. Not when she hadn't felt true happiness yet. Not before she even turned eighteen. The other Elites told him to suck it up. Sam didn't, he cheated the system he was brought up to abide by.

Sam loved Mercedes more than any duty, any immortal advantage he had over humans. He loved her only like someone who cared too damn much could. He needed her like a pulse. So he said fuck Mark and the other Elites that would probably kill him soon enough anyway and saved her life because she deserved a chance at a normal one. It worked, and she loved him for a few months. That short amount of time taught him that there was a Heaven, and they lived in it. In those months he managed to make her smile every day, get her to stop purging and forget that she hated her life outside of what they had. It was selfish and possessive of him to take her mind like he did, but he loved her dammit.

Sam loved that she laughed a little bit too loud, loved that she couldn't stop rambling once she started and he had to hush her with his lips. Loved that her hair was so long and so black it was almost blue. He loved how untamed and curly and puffy her hair could get and hated when she complained about it. He loved distracting her when she started to complain about it. Loved her braids but preferred it down so he could lose his hands in her hair. Sam adored her body and her even skin tone, adored her soft flesh and her plush lips. That backside and that womanly fragrance that followed her wherever she went. Loved that her eyes were bottomless and sometimes couldn't decide whether they wanted to be black or brown. He loved that her singing voice was completely different from her talking voice. She sung soprano but talked in a deep rich tone. That voice was husky and raspy and stimulating just to think about it.

He loved that there were still things to discover about her that he didn't get a chance to before, like that beauty mark he wanted to kiss right below her left eye, and which way did she prefer to be devoured. How many ways could they ribbon their bodies together. How much could he eat her and leave her starving. And her favorite movies and authors and actors and singers and everything. He wanted to know everything, because he loved her so much. Too much.

Sam left his fifth hour because he could feel Mercedes slipping back into her old habits. He could sense it; he was still half-immortal, after all. He noticed those tired black/brown eyes, smelled the sickness and sadness lingering on her breath. Heard her usual rasp turn into something hoarser. He was going to find her and persuade her to eat, because he knew how to do it. He was her Promised One and he had his ways.

When he did find her she was leaning against a wall next to the vending machine he brought her to yesterday. She was eating a bag of Doritos greedily and looking around the hallway with half-crazed eyes. It broke his heart.

Mercedes looked so tired it made his eyes sting. He talked to her and decided to give being with her a shot because if Damien could help him, he wanted to get his move on with Mercedes. She was the only reason he came to earth and he wasn't going to wait if he didn't have to. He was an understanding man, not a patient one. He was going to take what was Promised to him. Mercedes was his. _His. _

He was going to take her out, compliment everything she wore, buy her popcorn, and watch a stupid movie because she had to swoon. She was going to swoon and let him kiss her because she wanted it and he wanted it and she was a damned liar if she acted like she didn't. He was going to kiss her hard and make her pay for teasing him this long. He would take her breath away and she would beg for more but Sam would stop at a kiss because she deserved to be treated like a marathon and not a race. He would take it slow.

He couldn't wait for their date tonight.

* * *

"Mercy!" Santana called, finding the shorter teen lingering in Ms. Shelby's doorway.

Mercedes had just gotten through talking to Sam and her mind was going a mile a minute. She had a date with Sam Evans, and he liked her a lot. She had a date with _Sam Evans, _and he liked her _a lot. _His words, not hers. She didn't know what he was playing at, but she would soon discover tonight. She wanted to believe that he really liked her, but she knew the truth. Guys like him just didn't like girls like her for no reason. She's seen the movies. There's always a catch.

And if he really did like Mercedes, it was for another reason other than innocent admiration. If it was a crush, it was something probably superficial and childish. He didn't know her; he didn't know what type of person she truly was and how ugly she could get. He had to know that they could never work. They were too different.

Because he was perfect and she was not.

"Mercedes Jones get your ass in here!" Santana yelled, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She shuffled into the classroom timidly, taking in the small music room. There was a classic piano smack in the middle and a small row of chairs off to the side. Music quotes and plaques adorned the walls, and microphone stands were against the wall. Most of everything was against the wall. Mercedes could only guess that it was for the choreography to be practiced without obstruction because Mr. Schue pretty much owned the auditorium.

Mercedes walked over to Santana and stood beside her, looking at the other girls standing around awkwardly. All in all there was about twenty of them, but no more than that.

"You're gonna embarrass me before I even try out at this rate." Mercedes snapped at Santana.

She shrugged. "If you just use your pipes like you did yesterday, there's nothing I can do to embarrass you."

Mercedes flushed at the weird compliment. She searched around the room for Ms. Shelby and found her stacking a pile of music books in a corner of her teaching space. Ms. Shelby was a pale, tall, dark haired woman with a strong jawline and a big nose. She wore clothes that made her look young and intimidating. Mercedes found it weird that she looked a lot like Rachel Berry but she wasn't going to delve into that. Mercedes did not care.

"Alright ladies," Ms. Shelby started, walking to the center of the classroom, "I'm thrilled so many of you came by today for auditions. I know it may be weird trying out for a glee club when Mr. Schue already runs one, but believe me this is much more different. First, we're women and there are no men allowed, and second we will actually practice in this classroom."

Santana snickered something about shade, prompting Mercedes to pinch her.

"Now, before we begin tryouts I'm going to be giving you music from a piece on the set list we're to use for Sectionals. Do not stress out if you aren't a vocal legend, as long as you can carry a tune and sing harmony you're good enough to be a Trouble Tone. You will have ten minutes to learn the part given to you and you will be divided into five groups of four. The best two ladies out of the five groups will be co-captains. Co-captains are assigned by leadership, work ethic, talent, and the raw ability to command the stage. If that's you, you better make sure I realize it."

Ms. Shelby reached over onto the grand piano and started passing out sheets of music to all the girls there. Santana grabbed Mercedes' hand and tugged her to her side, muttering under her breath that they weren't going to be separated if they stood together. Mercedes didn't care because she was already nervous and she hadn't even gotten the music yet. Mercedes could command a stage, but up against all these girls? She didn't know.

"Hey, let's go for co-captains, kay? I know you're all shy and shit but I really want to be one and you're great, so we'd make a good pair." Santana breathed into her ear, making sure the others around them didn't hear their conversation. Mercedes nodded and grabbed the music Ms. Shelby handed her, not chancing a look at it yet.

"Work with your group and be reasonable. I know we are women and there will be drama inevitably, but leave your BS at the door. We are here to sing and do our best. If you start something it's a wrap. I'm not tolerating it. We clear?" Ms. Shelby didn't even wait for the girl's affirmation and started counting off groups by who was standing by each other. Santana was right.

She and Santana got paired with a tall, pale, slim girl with long brown hair named Marley and a blonde sophomore Cherrio named Kitty. Marley seemed nice enough to Mercedes but Kitty was already rubbing her the wrong way.

"What kind of name is Kitty, anyway?" Santana said with an arrogant snort after Kitty declared that she was going to be captain and Aretha, Anorexia and Mexico better not get in her way. "I mean, you can go for captain all you want Kitten but to me you'll always be Puss—"

Mercedes tuned out the simmering feud that had already begun and looked at the music chosen. On the page at the top it read: _"Show Me How You Burlesque" _by Claude Kelly made popular by Christina Aguilera. Mercedes was apprehensive immediately.

It wasn't like she didn't like the song; she loved it actually, but to _sing _it? In front of people? That was terrifying. It was an upbeat, no nonsense, show stopping song. Mercedes couldn't be expected to sing the words "S_he's a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice"_! That was way out of her comfort zone and she was afraid. For real. But for now she pushed that down because if she ever wanted to sing on a stage for competition again this was her only chance. And yes, she kind of wanted to be a captain too.

"Who wants what part?" Mercedes asked the other three girls, stopping Santana from firing up whatever clever insult for Kitty she was forming in her mouth.

Marley stared at the music sheet for a moment before saying, "I'm an alto so I usually take the lower part."

"Okay." Mercedes agreed, nodding and looking at the paper in her hands. "What about you, San?"

Santana bit her lip. "Well, I want to take the middle part but Pus—_Kitty _is demanding it. And I think Shelby's starting to listen in so I guess I'll back down and take the lower part with Marley. Two's always better than one anyway."

"But—" Mercedes stuttered. That meant _she _had to take the high part! She didn't want to do it, that was suicide and she didn't want to belt an F sharp. "That means I have to sing the high part…"

"No shit?" Kitty asked, rolling her eyes. Santana gave her a warning glare.

"Can't someone else do it?" Mercedes asked.

"I could, but my voice cracks." Marley replied.

Mercedes looked at Santana pleadingly. She shook her head. "No way Wheezy, remember when we sang River Deep Mountain High last year? _Who _took the higher part?"

Mercedes did, but this was different. This was _so _different because at one point the music stops and she was going to have to belt that F like no tomorrow and she was so nervous.

"But…" Mercedes was about to ask Kitty to do it but after the bitch fit she put up to do the middle part she wasn't going to rehash that again.

Santana grabbed Mercedes' shoulder and stared down at her. "Quit getting down on yourself and let's do this, okay? You're great and you can do it and I know you can. No more bullshit, it's time to shine."

Marley flinched at Santana's cussing but nodded. "I've seen New Directions perform at assemblies in the past and from what I can hear, you're really good."

Mercedes blushed, slightly embarrassed. "Thanks. I guess we better learn this right?"

The four girls got to work immediately, rehearsing their parts and working on harmonies. Santana and Kitty got into it again, but both tamed their anger down before Shelby noticed anything.

"Alright, time's up!"

* * *

Everyone in the room fell silent and lined up, nervous and shuffling on their feet. Ms. Shelby told each group to make their way to the back of the room, and wait for the order to begin. It was such a nerve wracking process, especially for Mercedes, who was dreading her turn.

The first group to go up was horrible. She didn't know any of the girls in that set, and she could testify her sympathy to them. Though the one with an afro was pretty decent. Mercedes didn't want to be rude, but she would be surprised if any of them except for Afro Girl made Trouble Tones. They were off pitch and one of them—a slightly plump girl with black hair—looked more intimidating when she sang "Get your ass up" than intimating. Mercedes was feeling pretty good about her and Santana's chance to be captains until the second group hit the floor. They were all skinny and pretty, had choreography to match the song, and weren't half bad singers. Those girls would make a great contribution to this glee club and it was plain to see that all four were in. Mercedes' heart sank. The third group didn't do anything to make her heart sink lower, they just did the basics. Nothing to be worried about, nothing to cringe over. That group did their part and would probably make it in.

And then Shelby was pointing at Santana to bring her group forward. Mercedes almost barfed right then and there. She tried to gulp but her throat was suddenly dry. She paused next to Santana and stared at her profile, getting more and more anxious. All four of them stood, in an awkward line that was made even more uncomfortable by the other girls' staring, and waited for instruction.

Ms. Shelby looked at Mercedes, because she was the one that had to begin the song. "You ready?"

Mercedes felt her head shaking—because no she wasn't—until Santana slapped her arm. "Y-yes, yes I am."

"Start whenever you're comfortable." In order to do that they would have to wait a mighty amount of time, but she knew Ms. Shelby was just saying formalities. _Whenever you're comfortable, _really meant now. Now-now. Mercedes stepped forward and nodded, queuing Shelby to start the pre-recorded instrumental. She quietly cleared her throat.

_Underneath the city lights_

_There is a world few know about_

_Where rules don't apply, no_

_And you can't keep a good girl down_

She heard the faint noise of whooping as she stepped back and let Kitty make her debut. Mercedes wasn't even going to bother looking around to see who shouted the encouragement. It sounded like it came from behind her, but that didn't make sense because the only thing behind her was the open door. She didn't have the time to dwell on it, and right now she just wanted to lose herself in the music like she did yesterday.

_She comes through the club looking for a good time_

_Gonna make that, shake that, money on a dime_

_Don't need a sugar daddy; she can work it just fine_

_Up on the table, she'll be dancing all night_

Marley proudly walked forward in time with the beat and sang.

_Hey…! _

_Babydoll just come to life_

_Under the spotlight_

_All the girls wanna fall in line_

Mercedes decided at that moment that if quiet, reserved Marley could belt her mouth off than there was no reason she couldn't either. Mercedes knew her voice was the greatest star in this classroom, but what about everything else? Could she really outshine looks and skinny legs and perfect hair? She wanted to.

_We say_

_Hey…!_

_Here come the ladies 'bout to give a little show_

_Hey…!_

_Here go the boys you gotta show a little more_

Kitty and Santana had some weird sing off thing going where Kitty sung the middle part and Santana sang an octave lower as they staged their fiery personalities going at it. Mercedes thought they were sort-of not kidding, but drama makes for good entertainment, right? All four of them turned to the class abruptly.

_Hit it up, get it up, won't let you rest_

_Hit it up, get it up, this is not a test_

_Hit it up, get it up, gotta give me your best_

_So get your ass up, show me how you burlesque_

At this point all four of the girls were somewhat managing to dance around each other and seem in sync, even though it was anything but. Mercedes circled her hips, arching her back out and sang harmony with Marley while Santana and Kitty stepped forward again. She stopped her provocative movement though, feeling silly and blushing ferociously. Mercedes knew she didn't look like Santana or Kitty when she danced, but she still had fun trying.

_A little bit of naughty, is a little bit nice_

_She's a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice_

_Shimmy, shimmy, strut, strut_

_Give a little what, what_

_Up on the tables we'll be dancing all night_

Marley took that moment to come around to the front and sing her small part again, surprising Mercedes once more by how well this tall skinny girl could sing.

_Hey…!_

_Everybody just come to life_

_Under the spotlight_

_All the boys wanna fall behind_

This time for the harmony Mercedes joined in with Santana and Kitty, taking up the higher part.

_We say_

_Hey…!_

_Here come the ladies 'bout to give a little show_

_Hey..!_

_Here go the boys you gotta show a little more_

When they got to the chorus, Mercedes the Performer was unleashed yet again. God, why did it take so long to get to this point? She rolled her hips for a second time, and felt her torso shift. Mercedes held her arms above her head so they were out of the way and looked around coyly. She had to admit, she looked a lot closer to knowing what she was doing than before. She didn't know why she never thought about dancing along with the beat, it was exhilarating. And if she could always perform like this, sing like this and feel this way—shouldn't she be captain?

_Ok girls; let's show them how it's done_

_It ain't over till we say_

_And we've only just begun_

Santana and Mercedes took over by this part, feeling the nostalgia from last year's River Deep Mountain High. It was fun, losing inhibition and letting the beat guide her. She held Santana's hand encouragingly and squeezed whenever she belted the first part.

_Lemme hear you say:_

_Yeah, yeah…!_

Say yeaah, yeah hey…

Mercedes was still nervous, even as she felt Santana pulling her by the hand to belt out some riffs, and that infamous F sharp she was still dreading, but she did it. The music pounded just right and she made a snap decision to try a move she saw Santana do and dropped down, coming up as fast as she dropped, her back arched out.

_Say yeah, yeaah,_

_Say yeaah… _

This time there was no mistaking the loud hooting and hollering coming from the classroom. Mercedes soaked it up like a sponge. She did it—she belted that F just like Aguilera and loved every second of it. The rest of the song was a blur, because in her eyes her group had already outdid everyone—even the group that hadn't gone yet. How could you compete with the best? Santana was the prettiest, sexiest singer of the foursome; Kitty was the most audacious, and Marley the brightest, and Mercedes the greatest. Anyone to come after them had a tough act to follow.

Mercedes beamed at Santana once they were told very appreciatively by Ms. Shelby that their performance "killed it". Mercedes waited patiently through the last group's routine of subpar dancing and singing. One of them—short and confusingly shaped—tried mimicking Mercedes' dance move before singing and almost fell down. She tried to hide her giggle.

"Often imitated never duplicated…" Santana said, hearing Mercedes chuckle.

What was it with people complimenting her today? She was going to get a complex.

"Thank you ladies, for your fabulous presentation of '_Show Me How You Burlesque'._" Ms. Shelby said, after the last group pitifully ended their act with the Copycat Girl doing another weird dance move. "I know you all did your best, but for some of you it is plain to see you're just not ready to be a Trouble Tone."

Mercedes flitted her eyes over to the first group, feeling no need to have sympathy for them.

"I will only be keeping fifteen of you, so that means I will have to say goodbye to five courageous ladies. Group two, Group three, and Group four, thank you; you are officially a Trouble Tone." Ms. Shelby smiled and Mercedes felt an enormous weight lift from her chest. _Yes. _Santana turned and hugged Mercedes so intensely she almost fell over.

"Now," She went on, looking at the eight ladies left, "I'm sorry to say this group one, but none of you have the X factor it takes to be a Trouble Tone. And Regan?"

Ms. Shelby narrowed her eyes over at the Copycat of group five. So her name was Regan. Regan the Copycat. "Sorry but you won't be joining the rest of us either."

Mercedes turned away from the failures of the auditions as they left the room, and focused on the next part to this process. Shelby still had to name captains.

"And does it really have to be announced?" The choir director said holding up her hands and looking at Santana and Mercedes eloquently. "Co-captains are Santana Lopez and Mercedes Jones. Now let's give it up for them! Congrats girls!"

Everyone around the two congratulated them as politely as they could while trying not to seem too upset. With Kitty as the exception, but honestly Mercedes didn't care. Marley gave her a sincere smile and hug and just like that Mercedes was ecstatic all over again. She forgot what it was like to be this happy. Never in her whole high school career did she think that getting what she deserved could be as easy as following Santana's lead. Mercedes really owed her one, because this audition—nerves and drama and all—for the first time was worth it. Mercedes was happy as hell, and hoped the good feeling would last. She wouldn't trample everyone else's opinion like the people of New Directions, and she wouldn't go diva unless necessary. Mercedes now had power and she wasn't going to abuse it. She would try and celebrate with Santana to thank her as soon as possible, but not today.

Because she had a date tonight.

* * *

**THANK YOU MUCH: Oxford (I can't wait to see what you think about this chapter), KrazyKay (You're reviews are always so well thought out and it pleases my heart), TeamSethLover (lol, glad you like Sam's game), Ladij, Guest, mh, AntoniaSayonara, Jujubee (you're so sweet!), LovesamcedesStory, TheAeroRee (I don't find it weird),** **Mercypowaaa, carebearcaryn21,** **Haitianm, Kimpa, Blackrose, eowyn, NCC-0419 (don't worry about Quinn…yet) and Zeejack. **

**SURPRISED? Lol, I updated so quick because I was just as eager to write as I expect you are to read. See? This is what happens when you lovely beings send me so much encouragement and support. You really do keep me going. **

**What did you think of Sam's thoughts? His heritage? Mercedes' past? And how amazing was her group during the auditions? Don't you love Santana? Excited for the date next chapter? I hope so, because things are about to get a bit…exciting. I'll give you a hint: Damien.**

**Please review!**


	17. The Date That Melts Away

****Please excuse me for my warped sense of time in this story. It should actually be somewhere near December. Sorry for the confusion. ****

* * *

_**You come to me with a casual flow**_

_**And suddenly my defenses start to go**_

_**When you talk to me in that sensual tone**_

_**It envelopes me and I lose my self-control …**_

* * *

When Mercedes got home that afternoon, she practically catapulted herself into her shower. Her mom would be at work until about six-thirty or so, and it wasn't even five o'clock yet so she wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable drama for another two hours. Thank God. Mercedes didn't feel like dwelling on the mess her family had become, even though she was the one that started something this morning. She would have to talk/grovel/apologize to her mom sooner or later. Hopefully later, because she had plans tonight.

Even now, as she stepped into the shower, she didn't have any clue what she was going to wear. Between the auditions and her mom and trying not to pass out—she hadn't been thinking about it. In fact, Mercedes still didn't know if she should wear makeup or not, what to do with her hair, or how to handle herself around Sam on their date.

On _their _date.

A date.

Together.

She still couldn't believe it. She was half expecting him to stand her up. Not because he was cruel, but because that seemed more plausible than him actually taking interest in her. She stood under the hot spray of her shower and let the day's stress burn off her skin. She wasn't going to wash her hair again, because if she did that it would lose all its natural oils and she had just got her hair healthy again.

Mercedes leaned her head back and contemplated outfits. A dress? No, that showed off her legs and she was sure Sam didn't want to see that. If she didn't want to see her own legs, he probably wouldn't either. That meant she was obviously going to wear jeans, but what else? If she wore a tee shirt it would look like she didn't care, and that's rude. So no tee shirts. She had long sleeved ombre bottom down that started with leopard print and ended in purple. That would be fine, cute even. And she could wear sandals with it. Or flats, it didn't really matter. What about makeup? Mercedes was going to the movies, not the red carpet. She was not about to go all out with makeup and seem even more thirsty than she was.

She got out of the shower after her skin had a pink tint and was scalded enough, with her hair plastered to her neck and back. It took almost all of her energy to sit on her bed and catch her breath. Mercedes knew she was hungry, but at this point she knew what eating again would do. And her throat hurt. She didn't want to purge today. It was inevitable that she was gonna have to eat at the movie theater with Sam, but that didn't mean she had to eat anything more than that. Mercedes already had a plan: Popcorn and water. Or popcorn and diet coke. She was going to try and leave the house early too, so she didn't have to face her mother. It was cowardly but Mercedes didn't care. Her outfit slipped on her body quite easily after she dried off. The clothes were looser than usual, which only meant that her diet was working. Diet. Pfft.

But it couldn't be denied, she looked better. Her facial features were more prominent, the chubby baby fat a distant memory. She still had a lot of work to do. And speaking of work to do, Mercedes still hadn't figured out what she was going to do with her hair. There was no way she was going to brave putting a flat iron to it—her hair would get damaged and that was an extra 45 minutes—so she unbraided it and combed the curls quickly, then pulled the top fourth of it back and secured it with a bobby pin. It looked decent and she wasn't brave enough to attempt more than that. Mercedes slipped on some flat shoes because she was dizzy enough without any added disadvantages to her equilibrium—plus tripping around Sam wouldn't be cute. She saw herself in the mirror and cringed. It was obvious how much cleavage the bottom down showed off now. She almost fastened up the three buttons she left undone, but that would look stupid. There was nothing she could do about her…abundance. And guys liked that, right? Mercedes felt herself flush as she wondered if Sam liked that.

The last thing she did was pull out a red tube of lip-gloss she had in her bathroom drawer. She stood in front of the mirror and applied it carefully, watching her lips shimmer in the fluorescent lighting and found herself content. It wasn't outrageous looking on her; it looked like a deep blush of color. She tucked the tube into her jeans just in case she needed to reapply it. Mercedes walked downstairs, feeling silly walking around her house looking so done up and feeling uncomfortable. And she was by _herself! _Mercedes was going to lose it by the time she got to Sam. No, let's not think that. It might actually happen.

* * *

She headed straight for the refrigerator and pulled out the leftover macaroni.

If Dad was still there he would've finished off everything for them and they wouldn't even have leftovers. He would've complimented everything last night, even that unhealthy salad and would've tried to eat off Mercedes' plate. He would've filled the air at the table with stupid questions and funny stories from his job. Mercedes would've laughed and listened halfheartedly while pushing her food around her plate. Her mother would've nodded at her Dad and replied with a snarky insult and then start bickering with him, but at least they would be in the same house. They would've ate at the table like a family—a fucked up one, but a family, nonetheless. Because they fit together, they _belonged_ together. Her father was an embodiment of the Jones. He was Mercedes' tentative actions and her mother's loud voice and their cackling laughter. He was her mom's hair color and Mercedes' skin tone.

She dumped some of the mac and cheese in a bowl, put leftover chicken on top of it, and heated it up in the microwave long enough for the chicken to pop all over the place. Mercedes left the microwave door open so the smell would linger in the room. It was 6:00. Her mom would be there in about thirty minutes. She brought the bowl out and dumped the entire overcooked mess into the trash, and threw some paper towels on it. Her mom would never guess. Mercedes closed the microwave and left the bowl in the sink, contemplating if she should stay or go.

Did she want to die from the butterflies swarming in her stomach or a broken family? Was there even a question?

Mercedes texted Sam and asked if he didn't mind if she got there early. Again, it was cowardly, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Mercedes was starving and scared because the last time she puked there was blood and nervous because she was going on her first date and her mother didn't even _know. _She would never know because the crap going on in her life required more attention than her daughter coughing up blood into the toilet of the upstairs bathroom. At least she made it seem like she ate so her mom would get off her back.

She wished she was a cutter. She tried and tried and tried, but it never happened. The knife looked too dangerous and her hands shook and she just couldn't.

* * *

It took Mercedes thirty minutes to get to the IMAX Theater across town. She had already got a reply from Sam saying it was fine and he'd be there by 6:30, so if anything she was going to be the late one. That is, if Sam showed up at all…

She _had _to quit thinking that. Sam Evans wasn't a bad guy just because he was attractive, and after everything she doubted he'd ditch her. But that didn't stop her insecurities.

By the time Mercedes was walking into the IMAX she was sufficiently freaked out. She bit her lip and sighed, pulling the door open and stepping inside. Likewise a bunch of giggling girls were grouped together up front, holding up the ticket line. And considering that she didn't see Sam right off the bat, and they hadn't even picked what movie they wanted to see yet, she fled to the restroom. The putrid stench of unhygienic women slapped Mercedes in the face. She would've puked on the spot, if it weren't for the fact that she only had Doritos that day and those were already digested in her system. She settled for reapplying some lip-gloss and washing her hands. Mercedes checked her phone; there was a text from Sam. _I'm here, where are you? _It read, sent at 6:42 pm. It was almost 6:50 now.

She took a few deep, calming breaths and pulled the door and stepped outside. Sam was sitting on a nearby bench with his back to her, staring at his phone. Probably checking to see if she replied. Mercedes noticed that he was wearing fairly casual clothes, a long sleeved grey shirt and the same jeans he had on that day at school. His hair was slightly damp looking, and his shirt was clinging to his body. Mercedes knew it wasn't from the weather. It was December. He had taken a shower, and his defined physique was on display. Mercedes swallowed hard. Her hands ran themselves through her curly twist out and she felt herself heat up. This had to _stop. _

Sam didn't notice her approaching and she pretended to not notice the line of his back as she walked up to him. He turned around just as she was almost in front of him, and he kind of stared at her blankly for a few seconds. His eyes widened a little and raked down Mercedes' frame quickly before he returned his gaze to her face. She felt immediately self-conscious. _What was he looking at? _Mercedes wanted to pull her curls around to her front to cover the blatant skin she was showing, but that would be awkward. And so awkwardly, she blushed instead.

"Uh…you…you…" Sam stood up quickly, towering over her frame and making her nervous. "You look—that shirt—I mean…your hair is just, you look—_wow_." He coughed.

Mercedes smiled shyly, because she was nervous and there was nothing to say to that.

"Is that a good wow or…?" She asked after another silence in which Sam continued to look over her attire.

"Yeah," He replied a little breathlessly, reaching down to finger a curl that was resting against her arm. "That's definitely a good wow."

She almost shivered. "Thanks…you look good too. Um, do you want to get the tickets now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." He agreed, nodding, like Mercedes' suggestion grounded him. He reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently before leading her toward the ticket line.

An old man that was only a few inches taller than Mercedes was greeting people not too far away from them and taking the tickets of customers for entry into the hallways full of movies blaring. She saw him look over at Sam and eye him cautiously, and she realized he was staring at their intertwined hands. Her and Sam were… something now and she completely forgot the issues of race they'd inevitably have to deal with. That is, if Sam wanted to go out with her again. For the most part she was going to ignore it, but it still made her uncomfortable.

She turned toward him and smiled, but it was partially forced. What does a person say to the most amazing guy they've never dreamed of being with on their first date ever? "What kind of movie do you want to see?"

He shrugged, looking anxiously over at the group of giggling girls in front of them who had stopped their conversation to listen to their exchange. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

"Mmmm," Mercedes hummed, looking at the list of movies they had to choose from. "What about, fast and furious 6?"

"If you want to see it, Mercy, it's fine. I'll watch whatever you want."

She blushed, and squeezed Sam's hand appreciatively. There was a murmur of approval and fascination from the teen girls up front that Mercedes tried to ignore. Sam could have anyand _all_ of those girls if he wanted, but he was there with Mercedes, holding her hand and agreeing to whatever she wanted. Now, she may be insecure and bitter at times—but what he was doing had to stand for something.

"Okay."

By the time they had gotten to the front of the line, Mercedes was getting use to the treatment of Sam's attentive words and compliments. She was still a bit uncomfortable, but it felt nice. And she was tired of asking him why he was wasting his greatness on her. At least for today, she'd let him say what he wanted, because she enjoyed him too much. She stared at him while he ordered their tickets and wondered faintly if he got more attractive while they were talking. His chest looked wide and strong under that shirt; his arms long and bulky enough to wrap her in a safe embrace. The thought made her throat dry. As Sam paid for the tickets and collected his change, she watched the muscle in his arms move with each motion and she became rooted to the spot, mesmerized.

Sam had almost walked away completely from her until he realized that she wasn't following. Did he know how _sexy _he looked? "Are you coming or what?" Mercedes saw him smirk. He caught her in the act of ogling him like he was a meal.

"Yeah." She nodded, in a daze.

They had gone to the concession part of the theater where the refreshments and snacks were, and Mercedes started to feel dread. Here was the tricky part: Food.

"Ladies first." Sam said once they were to the front.

"Okay," Mercedes began, looking at the girl behind the counter who was gawking at Sam like he was a damned celebrity. He looked like one, but _God, _did people have to stare? She felt irrational jealously flare up. Sam was with _her, _not the girl behind the counter. _It had to stand for something. _"I guess I'll have a bottled water and a large popcorn."

"So we can share?" Mercedes added, looking at Sam. He nodded in agreement and stared at her weirdly. _Was it because she said she wanted water? But water's good for you, though! _It made her feel exposed. She didn't know whether to snap at him or ask him why he was staring at her like that, so she chose neither.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." He turned to the girl behind the counter and squeezed Mercedes hand comfortingly like he knew she was getting pissed off. "I want a large coke and Reese's Pieces. And put extra butter on that popcorn."

Mercedes silently gasped at his request, her heart pounding at everything he was planning to eat. It was well over a thousand calories, and he was going to eat all _that? _How did he stay in such great shape if he liked all that junk? Was he planning on her eating some of his stuff? She hoped not. There was _no_ _way _that was going to happen. And the extra butter would make her gag and flee to the restroom within a few kernels. She bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to say something and hating herself for wanting to say anything at all. Sam paid for the food and she let him, because there was no way she was going to eat all that mess anyway, and grabbed the drinks as he took everything else.

On top of the unease she felt being around all that food, she heard the twittering of the girls from earlier grow closer and dread molded itself into the pit of her stomach. Mercedes remembered the way they watched Sam and murmured approval. He was _her _date, dammit. Yeah, he could have anyone he wanted, but he was with her tonight. If only for tonight, fine—but he was still with her. Mercedes heard them talking about new jeans and butts and how good they all looked and Mercedes almost laughed.

A short skinny redhead that looked a lot like Kitty but not stepped ahead of her imbecile friends and struck a pose. "Don't these jeans look good? I think they're a bit tight, though."

Her question was followed by reassurances that she looked hot—and tight or not, she had to love them. She nodded and looked over at Sam, who was holding the food and looking off into the distance like he was thinking about something.

"Do you think these jeans look too tight?" She asked, giving Sam a coy smile.

Mercedes felt rage and insecurities run so hot in her veins she couldn't decide which she was really feeling. She held her bottled water a little tighter.

"Me?" Her date asked, to which the redheaded thirsty, _basic_ girl nodded. "I don't really know. Um…I can't be the judge of that." He said nonchalantly, shrugging and standing closer to Mercedes. She felt herself relax. The girls looked at Mercedes and scoffed, walking away and mumbling. She looked down, trying to forget them as they got closer to the room playing Fast and Furious 6. Sam wasn't giving those girls a second glance and if he didn't care then she didn't care.

* * *

Her and Sam had made it into the dark theater and sat in the middle. There was hardly anyone in the room, possibly because of all the other movies that had just started playing and this movie was old compared to the others in that sense. She thanked God she didn't have to deal with anymore gawking girls. They sat down next to each other and got settled in, Mercedes handing him his drink and him giving her the popcorn to hold. She was not going to eat all of it that was final. As the previews were rolling, Mercedes opened up her water and took a giant gulp, wishing to fill herself up before she had to start eating. She grabbed her curls, holding them back and brought them down to one side of her shoulder, exposing her neck.

"I know I've already told you before," Sam prefaced, looking at Mercedes, "And I kind of told you earlier, but you look beautiful, and your hair looks really good. I—it looks curlier than usual…it's pretty."

She smiled, ducking her head and biting her lip. "Thank you Sam. You look really good too."

He chuckled. "You already said that."

"Well so did you."

Sam rolled his eyes and ripped open his Reese's. "My compliment was much more incoherent than yours."

Mercedes laughed, leaning back in her seat and adjusted her shirt, allowing it to slightly droop on her body and expose more of the tank top she wore underneath. Her nervousness around Sam had almost completely evaporated, at least for the time being. This—this feeling of shy confidence—was different. She wasn't a forward girl, and it wasn't like guys were banging her doors down trying to date her, but she hoped Sam liked what he saw. She wanted him to want her like she did him. And realizing this, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Her mom, dad, and glee club didn't matter in this moment. It was just Sam and that semi-tight shirt he was wearing and him complimenting her. She smiled, relaxing into her seat and closing her eyes.

_You make me happy and I could make you happy. I know I can make you happy._

Sam was right, he was making her happy.

The movie started and it wasn't until thirty minutes into it that Mercedes realized she wasn't paying attention to the movie at all. She was looking at Sam when he would chuckle at something going on in the movie, then lower, to see the muscles in his stomach tense and release as he moved and she had to cross her legs. Her eyes followed Sam and his damp hair, the small droplet of water that rolled into the collar of his shirt and down, down, down… Maybe she should watch the movie with him and start up a little conversation so she could stop staring. Or jump him and hope he didn't pull away.

No. Just—just start a conversation with him and watch his body and—no. Watch the movie. Watch the movie and talk about licking his lips—no.

She forced herself into watching the movie and shoving buttery popcorn into her mouth. Robotic movements. Chew eight times, don't taste, swallow. Wait another five minutes and start the torture again. She hated it and hated it and hated it so much, but she was on a date. She had to be normal. Her bottled water was almost empty and she would be nauseous soon.

Sam had been quiet for some time now.

"Aren't you quiet," Mercedes teased, licking her buttery lips. Sam leaned forward and faced her, chewing absently on his Reese's. Mercedes closed her eyes so she wouldn't look at his mouth. "What, have you finally decided that you didn't want to see this movie after all?"

"No. I finally decided that..."

Mercedes opened her eyes after he broke off to see that Sam was staring at her, an intense expression on his face. His eyes locked with hers and she swallowed, feeling her heart rate jump. Her stomach did a backflip.

"Yes, Sam?" She whispered.

"I want to kiss you."

Her body went rigid and she felt the beginning of a new kind of wooziness take place. It's like she was flung into an alternate universe where fairytales and happy endings existed and _Sam wanted to kiss her. _He was still staring and her stomach was still flipping but now it was a good-weird flip that had her pressing her legs together. She could do it. She could tell him the truth, that she had been imagining kissing him since the night began—before that, actually—and hopefully be kissed. Her eyes moved down to his lips.

But because there was some chemical imbalance in Mercedes' mind, she felt the need to say, "But you just got out of a relationship yesterday."

Sam closed his eyes, running a hand through that damp sunshine hair that was dimmer than usual. In fact, considering that and the illumination from the movie, his hair was actually a shade of moonlight. Mercedes could imagine kissing him and losing her hands in the moonlight. She _could_, but she didn't.

"I thought we agreed to not talk about Quinn."

"It's not about Quinn though, it's about the fact that you just got out of a relationship and now you're trying to kiss me."

Sam turned stern eyes towards Mercedes. "If I never dated Quinn, or anyone else, or better yet—was _still _dating someone, I'd want to kiss you. I want you. Always."

There goes that argument.

Mercedes should ask _why_, wouldask why and _how_ he could feel those things for a girl he's known for two weeks, but that would only start an argument. And they were on a date. She would be nice. She would persuade him into not wanting to kiss her. How she got from wanting to jump him to not wanting him to kiss her was mind-boggling.

"I don't know how. To kiss, I mean." She admitted shamefully.

"It's not like your voice, Mercedes. It's not a God given talent," He chuckles, moving closer. The room spun and she could swear that his breath smelled like chocolate and Sam. She shut her eyes and balled her hands into fists. Nervous wasn't the word for the way she was felt inside. Her heart was coming to a stop, or beating so fast it was trying to run out of her chest, she couldn't be sure. "And I've heard that practice makes perfect."

Oh no, she could tell she was seconds away from dying and going to Heaven. Mercedes couldn't think—her brain had packed its case. And she couldn't breathe, either. She forgot how. Butterflies shoved the popcorn in her stomach out of their way and starting taking flight. She trembled. Her eyes popped open and she shook her head.

"Sam, we shouldn't—you just—and I _really_ don't know how_._"

He reached out and grabbed her face. "I'll lead you."

She bit her lip, looking down. "You won't like it—"

"Stop," He murmured soothingly, leaning so close that she felt his body heat mingle with hers, a welcome searing breath on her face. "Just stop talking and feel. Relax. I'll take care of you."

Mercedes had no doubt that he would take care of her, but for some reason the first thing she did was tense up. She tried to control her panting as his lips hovered over hers, but she couldn't. Her senses went into overdrive, and she was now sure that if he kissed her, she was liable to pass out. Die, even.

And then she passed out, died, came home and gone to Heaven because his lips pressed into hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sat, shocked and not knowing what to do—because this was her first kiss and it was with Sam. And yet, it felt familiar—like her dreams and fantasies were forcing themselves to the surface because she felt like she _knew _him. Like she's spent all of her loving life kissing him like this and it was weird. She responded, pushing back shyly and took in the feeling of his soft lips that were so plush it made her dizzy. Or she felt dizzy because she couldn't breathe properly. Probably that one. She wondered how many girls before her got the privilege of kissing him and immediately shut that thought out. It wasn't her business and she had better be thanking her lucky stars Sam was laying one on her to begin with. His lips captured her bottom lip and pulled, making her gasp and almost-whine. _What kind of kiss was this? _He released her lip and steadied his mouth on hers, just breathing, and then he was gone.

Her body cried out in dissatisfaction at the loss of contact and arched after him as he leaned back. The kiss was fairly simple, a simple press and then that thing he did with her bottom lip that had left her breathless and—well. She would be thinking of how bad she was now if she could form a thought. Mercedes knew it was just a kiss among the thousands of girls he probably had been with compared to her one, but it was everything to her. And she wanted to open her eyes and see if he was satisfied with her lackluster kiss, but then he was slipping his hands down to her waist and kissing her again. She didn't object.

This time she allowed herself to slide her hands up into his hair that looked like a moonbeam and let him lead her in this new kiss, because she didn't know what she was doing anyway. He pushed and pulled, fingering the curls that stopped in the middle of her back and not opening that sweet mouth even though Mercedes wouldn't have minded. Maybe he was just trying to be sweet, _who knows. _And when she reciprocated the actions he tightened his hold on her before moving away and leaning his head against hers. They stayed like that, nervously breathing and grinning until Mercedes opened her eyes and broke their silence.

"That didn't suck, right?" She asked, knowing her dignity and sanity depended on his answer.

"That was…" He started, looking down at her lips and ogling them shamelessly. He moved his eyes up to hers and the desire in them was unmistakable. "Amazing. Incredible. Better than I re—I want to do it again."

Was he about to say that it was better than he remembered? No, that didn't make any sense.

"You're being honest." That wasn't a question.

"As honest and serious as a heart attack."

Mercedes nodded, her heart coming back to a reasonable beat and rhythm. "We should watch the movie now."

Sam smirked but relented, slipping his hands away from her waist and taking her hand. "Okay. I'll watch the movie, but I'll be thinking of you."

Oh gosh.

* * *

Mercedes was just as bad as Sam. She watched the movie with her eyes, but her mind was somewhere else. By the time the movie was over Sam had sufficiently ate up everything he had bought, and that was good, because she didn't have much of an appetite after the kiss. Not for food anyway.

They walked out of the theater, hand in hand, with Mercedes faintly holding onto the wall closet to her to stay vertical. She felt like a changed woman, and all because of a kiss and Sam's affection. She didn't want to leave, but thankfully it was Friday and she could sleep in tomorrow with him in her thoughts.

They had gotten to the entrance before Sam stopped abruptly.

She turned to him, about to ask what was wrong when she saw. Mercedes didn't see a problem or issue, but she saw a man standing about ten feet away from them. He was a bit shorter than Sam, but he looked daunting. Not scary, but more powerful than anything. It was odd and she didn't know how else to describe it. He was handsome, with dark brown hair and a strong build. He wore a black shirt, jeans and regular shoes. There was a black bracelet-band thing on his wrist. This guy was dressed normally but he didn't seem normal. His gait toward her and Sam was sinuous, and for some reason Mercedes felt herself pressing against Sam for protection. Sam wrapped an arm around her once he saw how confused and concerned she looked.

"Don't worry Mercy," Sam said softly, "I won't let anything happen to you."

She felt herself relax a bit, believing him. But she still didn't know what was going on.

"Ah, Sam!" The stranger said loudly, walking up to them, "I knew we'd see each other soon, and what a sweet surprise, I've gotten to meet the woman of the hour as well!"

_What?_

"Damien, don't do this. Not here." Sam replied, holding Mercedes closer to him still, pushing her almost behind him.

Damien looked over at Mercedes, leering. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

She blushed. Sam made a noise in his throat very similar to a growl.

"Oh come now Samuel, I'm only complimenting her. What do you expect me to do? I haven't gotten the luxury of spending time with my Promise like you have, and it's been decades since I've felt a woman's warmth. Her body is positively _sinful_ too."

She would've been insulted and upset if it wasn't for the fact that the whole situation was unusual. Damien talked about Mercedes like she was an object, like he was talking about a fine wine. More importantly, he was talking like he was not of this time—this _world. _She looked up at Sam as he became angrier and angrier looking.

"Sam, what's going on?"

But he wasn't listening.

"Shut the _fuck _up, Damien."

And then Sam was leading Mercedes out of the theater quickly because people were starting to stare. Leading wasn't the word, _pulling _was more like it. Damien either sprinted ahead of them or done something else bizarre because he was leaning against a black Jeep that Mercedes learned was Sam's. Sam was making Mercedes get into the backseat and buckling her in before she could even register what was happening. That and the fact that _there was a weird guy talking like he was five thousand years old and Sam was kidnapping her when they should've been kissing goodbye and going home. _She couldn't let herself get taken to God-knows-where when she didn't know this Damien person and barely knew Sam, but by the time she had opened her mouth to say this they were already speeding off into the night.

* * *

**Please forgive my absence! I was hit with the biggest writer's block and I just couldn't let myself force out words I didn't believe in. I still care and I pray you do too. Sorry for the inevitable typos…**

**THANK YOU: carebearcaryn21, Ladij, LovesamcedesStory, Kealah, Zeejack (beautiful reviews, as usual), Haitianm, NCC-0419 (thank you for your long thoughtful opinions), MyAntarcticHeart, Guest (1), krazykay23 (love your passion for family, and I promise it'll play a great part in samcedes' relationship), Kimpa7809, Oxford (excited for your opinion on this chapter), Guest (2), eowyn (glad you're understanding of Sam in this), and Jujubee58. (What happened to TeamSethLover D: ?) **

**What did you think of Mercedes? The date? The kiss? Damien? What do you think's gonna happen next? I'm excited for all of your opinions and questions! I vow to not take as long for the next update. I hope you still believe in this story like I do, especially now that it's picking up speed…**

**Please review!**


	18. Not the Holiday Inn

_**I was so caught up in the moment**_

_**I couldn't bear to let you go yet**_

_**So I threw caution to the wind**_

_**And started listening to my longing heart**_

_**And then you softly pressed your lips to mine…**_

* * *

"Sam," Mercedes called again after she saw cars and streetlights blur past her window, "what is going on?"

Damien was riding shotgun while Sam raced down the road and for once since Mercedes had met him—quiet. He was quiet unless addressed by Sam, and the exchange between the two was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Sam and Damien seemed to be mumbling quickly at each other, but Mercedes couldn't make out actual words. Almost in another language. It was odd.

And it wasn't fair. It wasn't like Mercedes was asking for liquid gold—all she wanted to know was _what the hell was going on. _It was her human right to be told why she was along for this high speed ride. If Sam wanted to mumble to Damien, fine, but keep her out of it! Sure, she loved being around Sam, but she had wanted to see Santana tomorrow and her mother would be expecting her sometime soon. She couldn't go off with him—even if she wanted to—and forget everyone around her. He needed to take her back to the theater parking lot so she could get in her car and go home. Mercedes had been demanding Sam to give her answers, and "_right now"_, for the past minute. She knew he could hear her, but instead ignored her. When she started hearing her name brought into the mumbles between Sam and Damien, she was done.

"Sam!" That was a yell this time. Mercedes felt guilt when she saw him recoil in his seat, but enough was enough. "_What_ are you _doing?_"

"Trying to find a place to talk freely." He answered, swerving in front of a car and stepping on the gas.

"This isn't free? No one's here but Damien!"

"No," He replied tightly, "This isn't an unrestricted place to talk."

"_What?!"_

Damien turned around in his seat then, looking back at Mercedes and giving Sam a chance to regain his composure. "I don't know if Samuel's ever told you this honey, but you talk quite a bit."

"Don't call her honey." Sam said just as Mercedes indignantly snapped, "I _barely _talk!"

Damien looked back and forth between the two before shaking his head. "Oh, Elites and their Promises. What a sight to behold."

"What are you talking about?"

"Shut the _fuck _up Damien! God! How many times do I have to say that?"

Damien raised his hands in surrender and turned back around, looking out his window. "Okay, I understand where you're coming from, but you might as well tell her Samuel. We're on borrowed time."

Sam's pale jaw clenched in response.

"Tell me what?" Mercedes asked, dumbfounded.

"Mercedes, fuck, _please _can you just let me get us somewhere safe first?" He yelled.

She flinched. Mercedes was expecting a lot of things, some kind of response or something, since this ride had begun, but not a yell. It hurt her feelings a bit. Ever since Sam had introduced himself to her, it had been nothing but soft attentive words and suggestions. Not shouts and cuss words. And out of everything that had happened tonight—the weird introduction of Damien, being pulled out of a movie theater by her date, sitting in a car at night going 120 miles per hour—_this_ is what terrified Mercedes. Being yelled at by Sam.

"God," Sam said, banging his head against the back of his seat. "I'm sorry Mercy. Please, baby, don't be upset with me. I shouldn't have done that. And I don't want you to think I'm mad at you, this—my anger isn't your fault. You're perfect, you made this night perfect—and I could _never _be mad at you. I just need to get somewhere safe first so I can explain everything, okay?"

Her heart swelled with the words because even though logically she couldn't trust the guy she met two weeks ago to not yell at her, she could trust him to be honest. She didn't really know Sam, but she knew he wouldn't be outright mean to her for no reason. Mercedes was worried though. Why did she have a critical need to be safe? What had endangered her? She wished she could decode the mumbling between him and Damien. Why would anything go after her?

As if reading her thoughts, Sam said, "I won't anything happen to us. Nothing will touch you, okay? Don't worry."

Mercedes nodded. She trusted Sam to keep her safe. She didn't know why, but she did. Even in the movies, when Damien approached her—she clung to him then, right? It was instinctual.

"And by us, you mean me too?" Damien joked, lightening the mood.

Sam cut his eyes over to him. "She comes first."

He didn't say anything else after that.

They traveled for a while, more cars and trees blurring past, until Mercedes felt the need to bring something up. "Sam, please, what about my mom? I can't disappear or anything without her knowing."

Her—what was he to her? They had only been on one date, after all—_Sam _nodded shortly before roughly saying, "Call her. Tell her you're staying over at a friends for a couple days."

Days?

Mercedes pulled out her cell then, scrolling through her contacts and swiping her mom's cell out. It took almost four rings.

"Hello?"

"Mom?" Mercedes asked, even though she knew it was her mother, "I'm going to be staying over at Kurt's for a few days. We're catching up, you know, because we haven't spent time together for a while."

Mercedes eyes stung at the truth behind her words. She wished she could catch up with Kurt. Especially now, when her whole world was being turned on its axis. On the run with a stranger and her first date.

Her mother sighed. "I thought I told you that we were going to talk later about what happened this morning."

"I know you did, and I'm sorry, but I really need to hang out with Kurt. He's my only friend. You can have the house to yourself for a few days and we can both clear our heads. By the time I come back we can eat Sunday dinner together. Then we'll talk."

"Yes, we can talk over dinner, but will you _eat_ it?"

Mercedes eyes widened. "Of course, Mom. What are you talking about?"

"Uh huh. We'll talk about that Sunday too."

"Mom I—"

"Don't keep your friend waiting, Cedes. I love you."

"Love you too."

The phone disconnected and Mercedes put her face in her hands. _What now? _Did her mom find the food in the trash? No, she wouldn't go looking through trash. So why would she think that—that _what?_ She hadn't been showing suspicious behavior of…of an eating disorder, had she? What _was_ suspicious behavior of one? She wasn't skinny; she wasn't dying…so what? What was there to talk about?

She suddenly didn't want to go home as badly anymore.

"How can you be okay with Mercedes being around other men, Samuel?" Damien asked, not bothering to hide his words behind foreign mumbles.

"The guy she was speaking of is gay, Damien. I have nothing to worry about with him. Not like that, anyway."

"Oh…"

The rest of their conversation was mumbling, so Mercedes took her chances on catching up on sleep. Despite the unknown looming over her head and going fast enough to kill people, she was lethargic. Hungry and tired, was accurate. Even though she had that popcorn, she was hungry. And even though she didn't know where they were going and why, she was sleepy. Between the auditions and the date, her day had been awfully long.

"Lay down, Mercy." She heard Sam's deep rumble from her heavy lidded doze.

"What—" She took a moment to yawn, "Why?"

"You're gonna get a crick in your neck like that. Just lay down."

"Okay." She agreed, unbuckling her seat belt and laying on her side. The jeep was big enough that she could stretch her legs out comfortably. The car smelled like Sam and soft fabric. It was nice. She rose up a bit and grabbed her hair from behind and let it hang off the seat so she wouldn't sleep on it. Her button down drooped again in the position and showed off her tank top off enough that her cleavage was on full display. Mercedes didn't worry about it. Sam was driving and Damien wasn't looking. She let herself sleep.

* * *

When she woke up it was still dark and Sam was murmuring something. It was a lullaby more than a wakeup call.

"Mercy, wake up. I know you're tired, but let's get settled in and you can go back to sleep."

Her eyes fluttered open sleepily. "Where are we?"

"The Renaissance." He replied, opening up his door and letting the cold December night air in. He then opened the backseat door and grabbed her hand, helping her sit up.

"A hotel?" She asked.

"Yeah." He answered, letting her lean against him as they walked to the entrance. He could tell she was fighting sleep, even now.

Mercedes felt Sam staring at her heavily but she had no idea why. Her eyes were barely open and she was leaning against him for support so she wouldn't fall over. That was some good sleep she was getting too. Better than she had in a while.

"What?" She opened her eyes wider to see Sam taking in her appearance—disheveled, her shirt wrinkled and almost open, her chest pushed up so much her bra was peeking out from her tank, her hair now puffy and frizzier—she resembled a hot mess. If she wasn't so tired she'd feel bad.

"Nothing." He replied, sounding far off.

It took until they had got in the hotel reception area for Mercedes to remember. "Where's Damien?"

"He took the Jeep to go pick up some food." That didn't sound completely honest. Mercedes was tired of asking.

* * *

"Can I have a room for two and a single room for one?" Sam asked the woman at the reception desk in front who was ogling him. Not this again. Mercedes was now hungry, tired and annoyed.

"Do you want two twin beds or a king sized?" The woman whose thirst was evident asked. Time to make her feel bad.

Mercedes spoke up then, because Sam was hers, even if he wasn't and that woman needed to know her boundaries. Not to mention being half asleep helped her courageousness along. "Sam, I don't want to be alone. Please." Hopefully he got what she meant.

He faltered in his movements to look at Mercedes. She probably looked more desperate than the reception woman, but he was Mercedes' date earlier—not that other basic girl's.

Surprisingly, Sam conceded. "A king sized bed for the first room and I don't care about the other one."

The reception girl cut her eyes over at Mercedes. "Okay sir, how many nights?"

"Two days and one night." Sam handed over what looked like a couple hundred dollar bills. He took the two room keys the woman gave him and pulled Mercedes to his side, walking to an elevator.

Once they were in the privacy of the elevator, Sam turned to Mercedes.

"Why would you say that?"

Mercedes squinted up at him, still half asleep, and leaned against a wall. "What?"

"Earlier, when you said that you didn't want to be alone."

"I don't wanna be alone." She explained, like it was obvious, "It's been a long day and I'm tired and that woman was looking at you like she was going to mount you or something."

"So you just said that you wanted to sleep in the same bed as me to make that girl jealous."

It sounded worse when he said it. She turned her head, exposing the curve of her neck. "Not entirely."

"So what is it then?" This sounded important to him somehow.

"I'm tired, confused and scared. I don't want—I just want some familiarity tonight when I go to sleep." The elevator doors opened then.

Now, as Mercedes was more awake then ever due to Sam's interrogation, she took in the hotel. It was ritzy and lavish, all rich cherry wood everywhere and glass covering the walls. And this was just a hallway; they hadn't even gotten to their room yet. Their room. Huh. Mercedes was starting to see the implications in her tone earlier when she spoke to that thirsty girl. She blushed. It wasn't like that. She wasn't the type of girl that slept with a guy on the first date. Well in this case she was, but they were _only _going to be sleeping.

"Okay." Sam nodded, seeming pleased with her answer.

Mercedes waited as Sam found their room and slid the key-card into the door, hearing it beep unlocked. She walked in timidly behind him, looking around the room appreciatively. It wasn't a five star hotel, but it was somewhere near it. There was a plasma screen TV not too far away from the only bed in the room, and a closet that had drawers attached. There was a mini fridge with a microwave sitting on top. The bathroom looked nice too. She flung herself down on the bed and laid down, feeling content for the first time since she got in the Jeep.

"Damien should be knocking on the door soon to get his room key. He's bringing Chinese food. Is that okay?" He asked, locking the door and looking in the bathroom for a moment.

Her stomach almost growled. "I'm not really hungry."

"You need to eat, Mercedes." He said quietly.

She wanted to argue, but what good would that do? Her mom had already caught on—she thought—did she really need any more suspicion? "Okay."

"So," She asked after a while, "What's going on?"

"It's a long story." Sam warned.

"Tell it briefly then."

"Well, there are these people—a group of them, really—they're the Elite Council. And they're not happy with me—us."

"_Us_? What did we do? What did _I _do?" Mercedes asked, rising up on the bed to look Sam in the eyes.

He flinched. "That's a very long story. I'll wait and tell you tomorrow. It's late and I know you're tired and you need food and sleep. When you get that, tomorrow first thing I'll explain everything. But know that you're safe. You're safe and I won't let anything happen to you."

She shook her head and crossed her arms. "This isn't fair. I don't know anything. I don't know why these people are after me or you and I don't know why we had to go on a temporary run. I don't know what's going on and why we had to flee the moment Damien arrived. What does he have to do with us? Isn't he in danger too? Why don't you just call the police?"

Sam ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the bed beside Mercedes cautiously. "Damien's here to help, Mercy. He can help us. The police can't, they'll just make it worse."

"How will police make it worse? Is this Elite Council a gang?"

"Something like that."

"That seems like a job for the police. The FBI, even."

His eyes pierced her. "It's not."

Mercedes stared at Sam for a moment before looking away. "How am I not supposed to be worried? If this gang is after us, isn't our family in danger too?"

"No. This gang—their like mediators. They don't go around hurting people for the heck of it. Our family's safe. I promise."

"But if they're not really bad, than _why _are we on the run?"

Sam leaned out and grabbed her shoulder, making her shiver almost instantly. "That's for tomorrow."

Mercedes bit her lip nervously, thinking of gangs and guns and death. "I'm so confused Sam."

Sam stared at her and twirled a few curly puffy strands of hair in his hand. "Hey, don't look like that. I've got you, okay?"

She looked at him hesitantly and pursed her lips. As if to prove his point, Sam held his arms out to Mercedes and she crawled over to him, making it easier for him to wrap his strong arms around her. She sat and breathed deeply as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. And it reminded her—she had her first real kiss tonight too. Then she felt herself wanting a second kiss, and maybe a few more. Was it wrong to want this considering the circumstances? Could she really want to turn her head and kiss him when only thirty seconds ago she was scared for her life? And rightfully so? Yet, she still felt something in her stomach tightening every time his lips touched her face and she couldn't let this go on for much longer.

"Mercy," Sam breathed into her hair, "I know you're upset. But let me distract you for a minute."

"What?" She sighed, pressing herself closer to him. Now she was practically straddling Sam, holding onto his shoulders and shivering.

"Let me kiss you?"

Mercedes nodded and squeezed his shoulders. "All right."

She expected this kiss to be soft and gentle, but it wasn't. This kiss wasn't like the first. It's wasn't careful. It wasn't chaste. And Mercedes knew if it was she wouldn't have been distracted. Somehow Sam knew that this was exactly what she needed. To be completely overwhelmed, to turn her world inside out. She responded just as he parted his lips. Sam seemed to be holding back before, but she really couldn't be the judge of that. Mercedes allowed herself to lose her inhibition with this kiss and be lead. San moved his lips against hers, desperately pushing and pulling, feeling them against his own. He dragged his tongue across her upper lip and felt her intake of breath.

Mercedes was forgot where she was, wholeheartedly distracted, focusing only on Sam and the things he was doing to her. Mercedes made an embarrassing whimper-noise in the back of her throat and Sam pushed his self with such a force against her that he shoved her down onto the bed, covering her body with his. She made another weird sound, like a moan into his mouth as Sam tilted his head to deepen this kiss. The new angle allowed her to sigh into his mouth as their kiss turned sensual.

Mercedes shyly slipped her tongue out to taste him. Sam had been doing it this entire time, and now she wanted her turn. Her tongue flicked his mouth, and she almost embarrassingly whimpered again. He was delicious. Hot and soft and a little bit of chocolate from earlier, but Sam.

She pulled away to breathe, tilting her head back as Sam starting kissing her behind the ear, making her impatient. At first she was satiated, but now, as Sam ran his hot wet tongue on her skin, she wanted more. More kisses and more tongue and more muscled Sam, minus the shirt. He ran a hand up and down her side, never going past her ribs even though she had arched into him. Mercedes closed her eyes, licking her lips and pressing herself up into him, searching for something only he would be able to give her. This reminded her of her time in the shower, seeing sunshine hair and feeling whispered words into her neck and those long thick fingers—that just made it worse.

Sam braced one arm against the bed, removed that magic mouth from her neck and rested his forehead against hers. He was breathing heavily and licking his lips. His eyes were dusky and hooded.

"Was that a good distraction?"

"What?" She asked, breathing hard. Mercedes was positively kissed.

The banging on the hotel door brought them out of their hormone riddled stupor. Sam left Mercedes on the bed, panting and aching for him, to answer the door. She heard him start that weird mumbling shit again and then Damien's "Goodnight!" before the door closed. She heard plastic bags and things being set down but Mercedes didn't look at Sam. She was still trying to catch her breath.

"The food's here." Sam said unnecessarily, his voice deep and rough.

Mercedes really and truly wasn't hungry anymore.

"Baby," Sam called, making Mercedes raise up from her position to look at him, "Come eat."

She obeyed, lifting off the bed and walking over to him. Mercedes could smell the Chinese takeout—eggrolls and low mein and everything she considered about Chinese food to be delicious—but her eyes were only for Sam. She was hungry for some Sam.

Unfortunately, Sam wasn't on the menu.

She had one eggroll and a bit of beef low mein, but not a lot. Enough to not look suspicious to Sam, but not enough to have her go purge. Her stomach couldn't take all the food she's been shoveling in it lately, and Mercedes found herself getting nauseous.

"Damien thinks we should go to his room tomorrow. So he can explain everything." Sam said after they had finished eating. Mercedes was starting to realize how much Sam ate. None of the food Damien brought them went to waste. He ate everything there. And as queasy as she got at the sight and thought of food, watching Sam eat was intriguing.

"He's gonna explain everything?" Mercedes asked, a getting a bit miffed. She wanted Sam's words, not Damien's.

"Just the basis of why we're running. I'll tell you—the important stuff. The key elements."

She nodded, feeling exhausted. "Okay."

"Mercy," Sam whispered, leaning over and pecking her lips. "Go change and we'll go to bed."

Mercedes paused. "Into what though? I don't have any clothes with me."

Sam shrugged, staring at her mouth. "Wear your shirt."

Mercedes wanted to argue, but what good would come of it? She didn't want to sleep in jeans and right now her button down was her best bet. It covered her butt, so that would have to be good enough until they could figure something out tomorrow. Mercedes nodded and got up to go to the bathroom, partially nervous.

She closed the door behind her and started undressing. She unbuttoned her jeans then slid them off her body, folding them up and setting them on the counter. Mercedes washed her face and took her tank top off also. If she was going to have to wear the clothes on her back for the next however long, she was going to stay as hygienic as possible. She buttoned up her shirt then, leaving one open at the collar so she didn't look like a dork. Mercedes then proceeded to braid her hair back, fishtailing it in an attempt to look good for Sam. He liked her hair and that was great, but there was no way she was going to sleep on it. She then washed her hands and went back into the room.

Mercedes expected Sam to be doing something odd when she returned, because at this point she didn't know what he would do next. What she didn't expect was for him to be lying casually propped up on the bed and flipping through channels in his boxers. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

Sam was glorious. Not ridiculously ripped but not scrawny. He was sinewy and strong, just like she had suspected, under his shirt. She wasn't going to say he had a six-pack, because she wasn't counting. Mercedes wished she could count the ridges of pure muscle on his stomach, but she didn't remember what number came after three. His abs looked delicious.

"Hey." He said, giving Mercedes a once over, his eyes darkening.

"Hi." She replied, looking at him awkwardly. It wasn't fair. He knew she was coming out in a shirt and he could prepare himself for the sight. She could not.

"What are you doing over there?" He asked once she didn't make a move to get on the bed.

"I'm—where's your shirt?"

"Oh," Sam said, darting his eyes over to her. "I didn't want to sleep in the shirt I was gonna have to wear tomorrow. Is this uncomfortable to you?"

"No. I mean—a little bit it is, but, this whole evening has been weird. It's not a big deal to me, really, I'm just tired."

He nodded, patting the space beside him and Mercedes got on the bed, crawling into his arms. He rolled the blankets on top of them and slipped deeper into the covers with her. She hummed, eyes getting heavy again as she laid her head down on his warm bare chest.

"Sam?" She said, and her voice had to cut through the fog of sleep surrounding them. It didn't even seem like it got out of her mouth, but it did.

"Yeah?"

"Everything that happened tonight has been horrible except this."

"Except what?"

She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Us, when we're together. Everything else seems like a weird daydream."

"Mercedes," He whispered her full name for the first time since they got to the hotel, "The cool thing about daydreams is that you're not sleeping. You can lose yourself in them for however long you want, but eventually you open your eyes and everything else fades away. This madness will fade away."

That was beautiful and Mercedes only halfway understood what he meant. "This date has been wonderful."

In her trance-like state of consciousness she heard Sam laugh. "Thanks, I do try my best."

* * *

**THANK YOU: LovesamcedesStory, NCC-0419 (it pleases my heart that you're so involved with this story and review so thoroughly. It's the reviewers like you I write for, thank you much.), Ladij, carebearcaryn21, krazykay23 (you and NCC-0419 are killing me with your long detailed opinions. I squeal reading them, can't wait for your opinion with this one), Oxford, eowyn, Haitianm, Luvable101, Samcedes5ever, and TeamSethLover (I missed you!)**

**I know it's hard getting back into the groove of this story, so for all of you reading but not reviewing, drop me a line and tell me what you think about where's the story going. **

**How was the Samcedes? Their sexual tension? What about Mercedes' mom? What about Damien? Do we still not trust him? Lol. What about when Mercedes has to go home, how will she hide from the Elite Council then? And what does Damien want from Sam? What do you think it is and how will it come into play? **


	19. Volume III: Everything Unfolds

**The truth is hiding in your eyes**

**And it's hanging on your tongue**

**Just boiling in my blood**

**But you think that I can't see**

**What kind of man that you are—if you're a man at all…**

* * *

Mercedes' slept restlessly that night.

Her slumber was full of horrible nightmares starring gang members, threats, guns and death. She held onto Sam tighter and he whispered softly in her ear, so that helped quite a bit. After the nightmares came to a close, Mercedes couldn't sleep properly and she knew why; she had the star of all her dreams right below her. Between her shirt-underwear pajama ensemble and Sam's boxers, it wasn't a surprise that Mercedes' imagination ran wild. Her body was just seizing the opportunity. In her burst of sleep induced courage, she threw one leg over Sam's warm brawny thigh and snuggled closer to him. She slept better then, envisioning warm bodies pressed against her and thick fingers in daring places.

By the time she woke up Mercedes knew it was late in the day. She wanted to kiss Sam's chest appreciatively, but found nobody beneath her. That was probably why she woke up to start with. Her warmth, comfort and safety was nowhere to be found. Mercedes sat up abruptly in their bed and looked around. Her mind was still too cloudy to start panicking, but Mercedes knew if she didn't find Sam soon she was going to freak. It was then that she heard the soft sound of water pattering against something. Sam was taking a shower. Mercedes relaxed then, realizing she had nothing to worry about. She rose from the bed and stood up, walking over to the nearest mirror. Her hair was a hot mess, again, and her clothes—no; her _shirt_—was wrinkled. If there was a board and iron somewhere she could get the wrinkles out of her shirt. Not right now though, because she needed to shower and change. Mercedes wasn't going to go iron out her clothes in a bra and panties. Not with Sam around.

That reminded her—Sam was in the shower. Naked and wet and glorious and in the shower. She wondered if he would come out of the bathroom looking like he did last night. Darker hair, wet from the shower, and wearing a damp shirt that clung to all those hard ridges. Would water drip down his neck again? Would he come in here, gracing her with the sight of running fingers through that wet hair? If he did, she was going to want a kiss again. She was going to want a lot more than a kiss actually, she was going to want—okay. Mercedes looked around the hotel room and fanned herself, trying to calm down.

Wait.

His clothes were sitting in a neat pile on the bedside table. That meant Sam went in there without clothes to wear and he was going to come out of the bathroom without any on. He had to wear a towel though, walking around naked in front of other people in the room was indecent and shameless. Mercedes fanned herself again. Now wasn't the time for this. And it really wasn't. She had a lot of questions that needed to be answered by today so she could go home tomorrow. Even if her mom was going to badger her to death over something she still didn't understand, she wanted to go home.

The water turned off and Mercedes froze. She heard the curtain being pulled back and knew Sam was stepping out of the shower, naked and wet. Naked and wet, with steam rolling off of him. Naked and wet, toweling himself dry. Naked, damp and fresh, smelling like a man… she was _not _going to spend her time fantasizing about Sam Evans when there were things to be done. Mercedes could control herself. She _would _control herself. He was attractive, yes, and attracted every woman that had a pulse. But it was more than that. What they had…she couldn't pinpoint. He attracted Mercedes and—and felt the same way? Mercedes rolled her eyes. All those kisses had to mean something. All those affectionate words and hesitant touches meant he was attracted to her too. They wanted each other. Or was he just being nice?

No. Their first kiss was initiated because he said he wanted it. So.

She unbraided her hair and combed the tangled snarls out with her fingers and adjusted her shirt so nothing was showing. Mercedes was not going to give him a peep show just because they slept in the same bed. She was a classy young woman; a reserved girl, a refined, sophisticated woman. The bathroom door opened and then the atmosphere changed. Steam poured into the room and Sam's feet paddled lightly on the carpet. In the mirror she could see him approach their bed, looking at the covers, and then looking over to where she was. Her heart swelled again. He thought she was still asleep.

"Hey," Sam greeted her, "I thought you were still sleeping."

Mercedes shrugged, because if she tried talking then her voice would crack. Sam was standing there in nothing but a towel. A towel that was small on him because he was so tall and sat low on his hips. Mercedes swallowed and turned away from the mirror because she could still see Sam in it. He was picking up his jeans from the bedside table and _was he going to change into that right here? _Mercedes closed her eyes.

"You should go into the bathroom for all of that." She squeaked.

Sam laughed and she heard the towel drop. Oh _God. _Did he find this funny? Was he trying to kill her? Turning women on so much they couldn't even look at him anymore?

"I didn't think about it. I thought you were still sleeping."

Mercedes made an indignant noise. "That's no excuse."

"Sorry Mercy," Sam said, and she could hear a zipper being pulled up. Jesus. "I'll make sure I have your approval next time."

Next time? Mercedes didn't know how to respond to that.

"Alright, you can look now."

She turned around and immediately wished she hadn't. There he was, in those jeans from yesterday, without a shirt on… Mercedes didn't look at his chest. Didn't look at that damp hair or the water dripping off of him. Didn't look at the muscles of his stomach that were hard and prominent. Didn't look. Her center started to ache and she shifted from foot to foot, trying to rub her thighs together inconspicuously.

"Why don't you have a shirt on?"

Sam eyed her for a moment before shaking his head. "What?"

"Your shirt…" At the sight of Sam breathing heavily, Mercedes stopped. "What's wrong?"

Sam inhaled and then took another deep breath. "You…I can smell…"

Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows. "Smell what?"

Sam didn't respond, and shook his head again. "_You._"

Mercedes didn't understand what that meant. Did he mean like…body odor? How could he even smell her from all the way over here? She thought she smelled fine, but if he thought she stunk, he didn't need to be mean. That was just fucking rude. Maybe she was wrong about Sam. Maybe he wasn't the nice sweet guy she knew. Maybe he was the womanizing jerk she feared. Mercedes casted her eyes down. "Sorry."

She headed toward the bathroom and Sam stuck his arm out, stopping her movement. He inhaled again and his eyes darkened. "I didn't mean—Mercedes you smell so…so…It's hard for me to explain. Just hurry and get your shower so we can talk to Damien."

_Damien._ In all the confusion that had transpired this morning, Mercedes completely forgot he existed. Even though he was part of the reason why she had spent the night in a hotel room with Sam to begin with. What did Damien have to say? What did he have to say that Sam couldn't tell her himself? What did Damien have to do with them? And beyond that, what was going on? Mercedes' heart twisted as she remembered that she was in danger. God, how could she _forget_? The answer was in right front of her, literally, staring her down with dark hooded eyes. Sam. He was the reason for all of her apprehensions, wasn't he? He was the one who turned her world upside down the moment he came to her in that abandoned hallway. Sam jumpstarted the hot mess that Mercedes had become. And as much as he was her problem—he was also her solution.

"Okay."

Sam stopped her again, snaking his hand in hers and pulling her toward him. "You're amazing, Mercy, did you know that? You're perfect."

Of course he didn't mean that, and Mercedes was about to say so, but then Sam swooped down and kissed her. This was what, the third time he had made the first move? So why was this so surprising? Why did it feel…different? He grabbed her hips and kissed her harder, unapologetically dominant. Mercedes got it then. This kiss was different because Sam didn't ask. He wasn't gentle, he wasn't trying to distract her, he wasn't trying to do anything but kiss her. He was doing it how he wanted to, because this was a kiss Sam wanted. This kiss wasn't about Mercedes, it was about him—and he was _dominating _her. He kissed her forcefully, like he was trying to make her understand what he couldn't say. And as persuasive as it all was, she still didn't know. Mercedes moaned into his mouth and then he restrained her against the wall. All she could see was Sam. Sam and his naked chest and his _warmth. _Mercedes ironically shivered.

Sam pulled back from her and his eyes were foggy, unfocused, and almost black. He leaned down and captured Mercedes in another wet kiss that made her whimper. One of his hands found her waist and started inching further up her torso, making her gasp. Mercedes broke off the kiss with a smack and tipped her head back, focusing only on Sam and what he was doing to her. His hand stopped at her ribcage and Mercedes bit back a whine. He was frustrating her again. No matter how much she arched into him, he was calling the shots and setting the pace. He knew what she wanted before she even knew herself. And _God,_ she this is what she wanted. Big warm hands and soft touches and hard kisses. And Sam. She wanted all of it. She wanted it forever.

Damien, The Elite Council, her mother, Quinn, glee club, her eating disorder—none of those things mattered. Not when Sam was here, kissing her and making her feel alive. He slid another hand up to cup her face, and Mercedes closed her eyes. The afternoon sun had nothing on the brightness behind her eyelids.

* * *

Mercedes and Sam walked to Damien's hotel room hand in hand.

Following the unexpected kiss, Mercedes raced through her shower, dying to see Sam again. Weirdly, it was like her attraction for him had got worse. Now, instead of fluttering butterflies, Mercedes felt a pull in her stomach. Everywhere she went that didn't include Sam felt wrong. The bathroom felt wrong, the shower was too empty. It didn't make sense. Sam was hers now, and even if he wasn't, she was his. That was plain to see. Mercedes couldn't imagine feeling like she did about anyone else. No one.

After her shower Mercedes towel dried her hair quickly and dressed in her jeans and tank top. The tank was loose enough that it didn't cling to the rolls on her back and her arms looked fine. Her arms weren't one of her problem areas anyway. She didn't put her ombre button down back on. No need wearing a wrinkled shirt she couldn't iron. And Sam wouldn't care. Mercedes wanted to stand in the mirror a bit longer to primp, but the pull in her stomach grew stronger and she had to see Sam again.

When she left the bathroom Sam was completely dressed. He sat on the bed and watched Mercedes slip her flats on, his eyes dark. His eyes were so dark all the time now that she wondered if that was just natural. He complimented her outfit even though she wore all of it yesterday. She was glad he couldn't tell if she was blushing or not.

They left their room soon after that, Sam leading Mercedes to Damien's room with her hand in his. Holding hands with Sam had become second nature so easily it was unnerving. Actually, if Sam hadn't held her hand, she would've taken his herself. She needed him like a pulse. Was it like that for other girls too? Did they feel like they were going to be sick if they were away from their boyfriend for longer than thirty minutes? Is that why girls hung all over their boyfriends? Boyfriend. Sam wasn't her boyfriend, was he? They went on one date and shared a few kisses, but…

"We're here." Sam said, stopping in front of a random door. Damien's hotel room.

"Okay." Wasn't he going to knock?

"Listen," Sam told her, leaning down and grabbing her shoulders, "No matter what's said, I want what's best for you, okay? I'm going to keep you safe. And if you want—want to take things slower, I'll understand. Don't feel obligated to do anything you don't want."

What was that supposed to mean? She wanted to ask him, but nerves from finally getting to know what was happening overpowered everything else. Mercedes nodded. Sam pecked her lips softly before turning and knocking on the door. It took Damien five seconds to answer the knock.

"Ah! What a pleasant surprise, Samuel and his girl outside my door hours late!" He opened the door wider and let the couple through, muttering to himself. Damien pointed to a twin bed across the one he had occupied on and they took a seat. Mercedes and Sam sat directly next to each other, with his hand instinctively resting on hers.

"Tell me, what was the holdup—morning delight? Or were you actually doing something productive?"

Mercedes felt Sam stiffen beside her. A low growl—animalistic and fierce—rumbled from his throat. "Mercy was tired and I was letting her sleep. That's none of your damn business anyway."

Instead of cowering from Sam like Mercedes knew anyone else probably would, a slow smile crept onto Damien's face. "So you wore her out last night?"

Mercedes flushed. Sam squeezed her hand and glared at him. "_Shut the fuck up_. I didn't bring her over here for you to make her uncomfortable. Keep your word, be a man, and tell her why we're in this mess."

Damien shrugged before directing his next question to Mercedes. "What do you already know about Elites?"

She bit her lip. "I know that they're after me and Sam. That's it."

Damien sighed loudly and wiped a hand over his face. "Okay sweetheart, this is going to be a long story, so buckle up."

Mercedes looked over at Sam, and he nodded. "Alright, tell me."

Damien leaned forward and took a deep breath. "The universe is a vast place, but it can be summarized into three places. Elitist, Earth, and El Dorado. These are three different dimensions, respectively. To humans like you this is usually categorized as Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Hell exists, but forget about that for this discussion. I'm talking about the other two. And Elitist, of course."

Mercedes shook her head, already not believing any of this. What did his weird concept of life have to do with a gang trying to kill her and Sam?

Damien held up a hand. "Before you start denying the facts, listen. You can make what you will of what I have to say after I'm done."

Mercedes looked around the room and sighed. He went on. "Now, Earth is the dimension in which we are living in right now, but there are a few more. For now, let's focus on Earth. On Earth, there's gravity and water and air. Earth revolves around the sun and rotates for 364 point some odd days a year. Earth has humans and animals, insects and plants. Earth has clouds and sky. This is the common knowledge you've known and grown up with all your life. Now imagine people—beings—that don't live on earth. Imagine beings that are highly intelligent and look just like humans but aren't. What do you call them?"

She spoke without thinking, "Aliens." She answered.

Damien nodded, smiling. "But they're not. They are superior beings with far more abilities and mental capacity than humans. These creatures are higher-up on the food chains. They're…elite. They _are _Elites. Elites aren't witches and wizards, they're not spell casters or those other mythical creatures' humans come up with. Just superior…just Elite. Understand?"

Mercedes chewed her lip in thought. Sam was brushing his thumb across her knuckles casually, comfortingly. She was waiting for both of them to start laughing and say that they were just joking and call the police. Because _this, _whatever Damien was talking about, seemed too farfetched. Mercedes may have a fuzzy mind and couldn't concentrate on anything other than music, Sam, and calories, but she wasn't stupid. If she were to believe his words, that would imply that there was a supernatural species out in space or wherever. That would mean that humans weren't the superior race and something else was. That would mean that the basest facts drilled into her head since she began grade school were wrong. And that was impossible.

"I understand, but I don't believe you." Mercedes said, because that was true.

"Didn't think you would," Damien said, smirking. "I'm going to tell you something. Elites can heal at accelerated rates and move faster than the lithest cheetah. Elites have super abilities, but all are focused on the mind. How do I know this? Well, because _I'm _an Elite Mercedes. Now, I'm going to show you something."

Damien's body shifted and blurred, then he was in front of her. Faster than she could blink.

Mercedes jaw went slack. "How did you—"

He blurred again, and then he was sitting on the bed across her, holding a pocket knife. Mercedes rubbed her eyes. "What are you _doing?_"

Damien smiled, his teeth showing. "I told you: Elites move faster than the fastest creature on Earth. And we heal superfast too." He held up his pocketknife and pressed it against his wrist, slitting the flesh vertically and not horizontally. Mercedes gasped. That was suicide, _literally. _She looked over at Sam and saw that he was watching her, gauging her reaction. _Why wasn't Sam doing something?!_

Then miraculously, just as blood dribbled out of the wound on Damien's arm, the slit healed, closing up and leaving a pink scar behind. Mercedes blinked and rubbed her eyes again. She must've been seeing things. "I don't know what you're doing, but you better stop now."

He laughed. "Alright, I thought at least by now you'd believe me, but I'll have to pull out all the stops."

He looked at Sam. "I'm going to use my Shadow on her, and I don't want you attacking me. It serves its purpose." Sam's jaw clenched as he nodded. And then Mercedes was flung into darkness.

At first she thought she passed out, which would've been understandable considering the circumstances, but the darkness stayed. She didn't black out and resurface to light, the darkness loomed, stretching over her and curling inside her. It was scary and there was no reprieve. Mercedes was very much aware of the dimness, and no matter how many times she opened her eyes, nothing changed. She screamed.

Arms, strong arms, wrapped around Mercedes and pulled her forward, yanking her out of the pitch blackness. She gasped and coughed, leaning forward and trying to calm the bile that rose in her throat. For once, she tried to keep her vomit down.

"Damien, you asshole, you went too far—"

"Hey! I told you I was going to Shadow her, don't get pissed now!"

Mercedes breathed in and out for a few moments before curling into Sam's side. "Stop guys, it's okay. I believe him now."

Sam rubbed circles into her back. "But how did you _do _that?" She asked.

Damien shrugged. "It's something we're born with. I can't explain that. It just is."

She nodded. "Okay, but if…if you're an Elite, why—why are your people after me and Sam? Why? What did we do?"

Sam turned and looked at Mercedes. "I'm going to explain this part to you now, okay?"

"Okay."

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit Mercedes learned he did when he was thinking deeply. "Elites aren't superheroes that get to sit around all day in paradise and do nothing. They have duties, responsibilities, obligations…paradise is El Dorado. Paradise is made for Elites that have their Promised Ones. Promises are an Elites' other half, their _soul mate_, for lack of a better term."

"When Elites are born, they are raised by the women of Elitist guidance camps. They grow up and learn all there is to know for their first fifty years, and the rest of their time is spent taking care of the universe and planets around them. Sometime after the first century of existence or so, The Elite Council reveals the Elite's Promised One. It's a beautiful process and it's life changing. Suddenly that Elite has something to live for, something to _want. _Truly want. It's not fleeting and it's not superficial. It's a promise of forever with someone who is your perfect match. It's like they're made for you, but the Elite was chosen for that Promise…" Sam had a dreamy look in his eye.

"But Elites were meant for the almost dead—not the living. They're supposed to finally be revealed to their partner when their Promise is on the brink of death, where that person can decide if that's the fate they want or not. The human always choses El Dorado with their Promise, and they spend eternity together. It's magnificent."

Sam stared hard into Mercedes brown-black eyes. "What I've done, what in turn _we've _done is taboo. It's a sin, forbidden, illegal—"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you talking about? I'm confused. I get the stuff about Promises and whatever, but what does that have to do with us?"

"Mercedes," He said, "Remember what I said earlier? I don't want you to feel obligated to do anything."

"Yes, I remember." Mercedes' stomach was twisted in knots.

"I thought you would've already guessed when…well. Just know, it's not your fault I was so reckless, and I'm sorry—"

"Please tell me Sam," She begged, "I can't follow your train of thought."

Sam stared at her before swallowing. He opened his mouth and closed it, eyeing her closely. It was like he was trying to see her reaction to what he was going to say before he even said it. Mercedes was about to beg him to tell her again when he stopped her cold.

"You were promised to me, Mercedes."

* * *

"Huh?" She asked, dumbfounded.

That couldn't be true. Mercedes wasn't on her deathbed, she wasn't knocking on death's door and Sam was a _human. _He wasn't one of those—_Elites _like Damien was. He was warm and firm and human. He hadn't come to her in some cool mythical place where happy endings existed and swept her up. Sam had swept Mercedes off her feet, but that was because he was _perfect. _Compassionate and gentle and hesitant. He was perfect for her. Made for her.

Oh God.

"You're my Promised one." He said again.

"No, I'm not. I can't be. You're _human!_"

"I wasn't always." And that sounded like another long conversation.

"I don't…" Mercedes shook her head, "I don't understand."

"I broke the law. It wasn't your time and I Reached out and took you anyway. I had to save you—you were about to _die _Mercy. I can't—I couldn't deal with your death Mercedes. Not like that, not if you were the reason…"

Her mind was mush. "I told you I can't follow your train of thought."

"I've watched you since you were twelve. I know everything about you…I know about what you've done for the past four years." He told her cautiously, like he expected her to go off on him.

_What you've done for the past four years? _What was he talking about? The only habit she had for that long was…Oh God. Not that. He couldn't be talking about…No. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Damien watched the couple talk before shaking his head and leaving to go get a drink. This could take a while.

"Mercedes, I _know. _I know that you've been…making yourself throw up for the past four years on purpose. I know that you tried to stop because you got scared. I know that it never worked. I know you."

Her heart stopped beating for a few seconds before stuttering back to life. "No."

She gasped it—not really putting a voice to the word, but the infliction was the same. _No. _

_No._

It's all she could think, the only word and feeling running through her. _No. No. No._

Out of everything that Mercedes had learned in this afternoon conversation, it's this that turns her world inside out. This is what makes her lose it. She jumped up off the bed, away from her safety and clarity and started pacing. The one person that made feel her alive was ripping her heart out and killing her. Sam shot off the bed after Mercedes and hugged her to his chest, letting her pound her fists on him. It wasn't his fault he knew everything about Mercedes and they both knew it, but now the floodgates had opened. Flashes of her parents fighting and her coughing up food into a toilet for the first time vividly invaded her mind. She sobbed, so sad and tired and lonely that her cries were muffled screams.

He knew. He knew _everything. _

And she cried. Because he knew and he still wanted her. Sam Evans—her compassionate, sweet, tender other half—wanted her anyway. He wanted her just as she was, fucked up and lonely and numb from the world. He wanted it all.

"But why?" She felt herself asking after she sobbed herself dry. "Why did you come for me when I wasn't dying?"

"You were killing yourself Mercy." Was all he said. Those words felt so familiar that something came whirling into her mind.

Sam smiling at her in a beautiful, mystical, place._ "Shh, it's okay. I've been watching you for a while. I know everything. I know you're lonely and sad. But you don't have to be much longer. I've come for you."_

Him pressing fingers into her, for real this time, and making her call out his name. _"What did you think, baby?" He asked. "That I didn't want you like this?"_

It was all perfect. She couldn't remember everything they did, but she remembered enough. Mercedes shivered. He always wanted her.

"…_When you go to sleep tomorrow night wearing a shirt that smells like me and feels like my hands, I'll want you. I'll always want you."_

"I remember something…" Mercedes breathed into his chest, grasping at the fabric so harshly her fingernails dug holes into his shirt. "You, and me, and…"

Sam's expression was unreadable. He buried his head in her neck, shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mercedes was filled with dread and fear and panic. Those Elites—the council was trying to break them apart. They were trying to take Sam away from her. She finally had him and they were trying to snatch him up. Her only happiness. "You're mine. You're mine and you can't leave me Sam."

Damien walked back into the hotel room then, taking in the scene of the couple. He rolled his eyes. "Okay, now that you two have had your hourly necking, it's time that we get to what I want."

Sam tightened his hold on Mercedes. "What do you want Damien?"

"You need my help, and I need yours. If we want this to work, there will be giving and taking, because I want my Promise too. I've been watching her for a while now…"

Mercedes sniffled and looked at Damien. "Who is she?"

He smiled, but this time it wasn't friendly. "Quinn Fabray."

* * *

**THANK YOU SO MUCH: LovesamcedesStory, arybby21 (enjoying the thoughtfulness behind your review), Kimpa7809, krazykay23 (excited for your opinion on this chapter!), NCC-0419 (hope you liked this chapter!), TBloves2read (laughed so hard after your review), Guest, carebearcaryn21, Guest, Samcedes5ever, Luvable101, zeejack (thank you for supporting me for so long), LadiJ (sweet reviews, as usual), Oxford, Jadziwine, eowyn (Running away forever would alert the Elites, and Damien can only shield them for so long, thank you for the insightful question!),** **suninthenightsky, and Jujubee58.**

**EXCUSE INEVITABLE TYPOS PLZZZ. I ain't got no beta and that's just the way it is. Lol. **

**How do we feel about this chapter? Samcedes? Damien? The conversation between the three (which isn't completely over)? And oh God, what about Quinn? Lol. Was the chapter rushed to you all? What are you looking forward to seeing next chapter? I'll try and get the next one out faster this time. **

**Please review!**


	20. Slipping Away

_**Please Pray for the Glee Cast and Monteith's family, everyone. Rest in Paradise Cory~**_

_**And USA's justice system is some BS**_

* * *

**So far, so far, you're slipping away**

**Slipping away from the life and the love we made**

**Baby I'm so afraid**

**So far, so far, you're slipping away**

**Slipping right out of my grasp and you're fading fast it seems**

**You know you're slipping away from me**

* * *

"Quinn?" Mercedes asked, stepping away from Sam's embrace, and instantly feeling cold.

Damien nodded, smirking devilishly. "Bet you didn't expect that, did you? The girl that hates your guts is my Promise?"

"Well no I didn't, I'm just…surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

Sam walked up behind Mercedes and took her hand. "What I think she's trying to say is that, I _dated_ her Damien. And Quinn is under the impression that Mercedes is the reason our relationship failed."

Mercedes cringed. Even knowing now that Sam was hers and always would be, hearing him talk about Quinn cut her. Irrational jealousy was rearing its ugly head and she tried to keep it at bay. Sam was _hers _and she was his. No one could take that away from them.

Damien shrugged, turning hateful eyes to Mercedes. "Aren't you?"

Sam growled, stepping forward. "You better stop talking that shit, Damien!"

"She's the reason my Promise is in so much pain. Do I not have the right to be angry?"

"_No_, you don't."

Mercedes swallowed, feeling inevitable drama bubbling beneath the surface. "Its okay, Sam. I understand where Damien is coming from. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" Sam yelled, shocking her, "Don't you _start_ with that shit."

"What are you talking about?"

He shook his head. "I'm talking about letting other people make you feel bad. I've had to sit through this for _five_ years. No more. I've had enough."

Her heart swelled. Promise or not—she felt herself becoming more and more attached to Sam. She nodded. "I know, but, think about if the tables were turned. Wouldn't you be upset?"

He squeezed her hand. "Probably, but they're not and I'm not even going to consider it."

Damien scoffed. "You think you're the only one allowed to be hurt and upset?"

"I don't think that's what he means, Damien—"

"Don't get involved with this Cedes—"

"**Enough**!" Damien shouted, surprising Sam and Mercedes both.

It was something Mercedes had never heard before, a yell at the top of his lungs. All she ever heard from Damien was soft strong tones, not crazed words, and definitely not rage. The lone outburst was filled with such pain and anger that it had Mercedes leaning into Sam's side for protection. She wasn't even going to lie, Damien scared her. This was the first time she got to see how an immortal's anger could change them. Damien was shaking, glowing, and shimmering between two different forms. One was the man she knew from last night—and the other was something so shocking she couldn't put it into words. It looked like Damien was becoming transparent, like a mist or better yet smoke. Like the black nothingness that engulfed her not too long ago. What did he call it—Shadowing? And then he shimmered back into a man so fast she almost thought she imagined it. Almost.

"I'm done beating around the bush for the girl's sake, Samuel. I'm _done. _No more shielding her from the truth, no more bullshit." Damien said quietly, which was scarier than the shouting from earlier.

He turned to look at Mercedes. "It's like this—and I'm sure Samuel hasn't said a word to you, of course—our lives are in _danger. Danger, _do you understand? Mortal and immortal peril, and there's nothing we can do to stop it. You were meant to die before little girl, did you know that? You were supposed to be dead weeks ago."

"_What?" Dead?_ She was supposed to be dead? How? When? How did he know that her death date was up weeks ago? Mercedes felt cold all over suddenly. She was supposed to be _dead. _Dead before she ever saw her eighteenth year, dead before she could follow any of her dreams. Dead before she could find someone to fall in love with—find _Sam._

"From what I've been told back in my world, you were going to kill yourself."

"But how—" A small noise bubbled in her throat. A sob. "_No…_I wasn't going to, I didn't mean to…to _kill_ myself."

"You were going to though. And that's all that really matters, isn't it?" Damien replied unapologetically, not sparing her feelings. She nodded.

"Can I get back to the story now? Because you need to know what's happening."

Sam growled again, but this time Mercedes stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Stop Sam, Damien's right. I need to hear this."

He tore away from Mercedes, cursing under his breath and kicking one of the twin beds so forcefully she heard something metallic break and give away. The sound bounded off of nothing. Weirdly, Mercedes felt like this was familiar. Something flashed through her.

"_If I'm going to forget all this within the next few hours, why save face now?" She argued._

"_If you're going to forget everything about this in the next few hours, why do you want to know now?" He answered._

So they had been down this road before. Ugh. She knew Sam was trying to protect her and keep her from getting worried, but at the point they were at worrying was inevitable. It was to be expected—along with their imminent death, apparently. And if that was truly the case, Mercedes had to know what was going on. She couldn't be ignorant to the danger following them, and her ignorance wasn't bliss. Sam might think otherwise, but for now he was just gonna have to suck it up and let her face facts.

Damien shrugged at Sam's obvious disapproval. "Anyway, because Sam stopped your suicide attempt, you've had a target on your back. He thought becoming human would stop the unstoppable, and look where we are now: Ever since Sam became a human to be with you, the Elite Council has been stalking his every move. Any contact with the Elitist world is monitored; anything he does that involves you is being watched. One day, stupidly, Sam was meditating—the proper term is Reaching—and searching for someone to come to his aid. Luckily, I responded before anyone else did. I've Shadowed our conversations—but it was only safe for one or two sessions. The Elite Council would start to catch on if every time he started a conversation with someone it disappeared. So I had to come to him."

"Elites can break through to earth mentally by means of a willing host. That girl in from your school—the dimwitted blonde that hasn't any sense? She was the safest and easiest bet. She thought I was her cat's friend once I materialized in front of her. I don't think she even cared actually. Now then, I came to Sam and your aid for two reasons: The first being that I can help you out, and that second being that you can help me out. You have Quinn and I can aid the only solution for your problems."

Mercedes shook her head. "We don't _have _Quinn, Damien. She's not our property. And I doubt that she would ever want to see my face again."

"That doesn't matter," He replied, "You're my only hope in ever being introduced to her. I _refuse_ to take the route Samuel did enrolling in that God awful education you call high school. You and Samuel can come to terms with how you plan for us to meet later; I'm not going to worry about it. But you have to make it happen before I can help you."

"That's some dirty shit you're pulling Damien." Sam said, coming back to Mercedes side. She held her hand out but Sam ignored it. He was probably mad at her. Her chest cracked.

"Why do we need to help you before you can help us? I thought you said Elites can only be with their Promised one if they were on the verge of death—wouldn't being with Quinn alert them? Wouldn't that make everything worse?"

He nodded. "It will, but there's no other choice. I'm protecting you two, even now, and before I get myself killed I want Quinn. I need Quinn. I have to have her…you couldn't understand. Being this close to your Promise and _not _being with them is painful. Physically and emotionally."

Mercedes squinted. "What does she have to do with you getting killed? What does she have to do with any of this?"

"Samuel," Damien said, looking over at the seething not-teenager, "You better not bust a vein when I tell her this. You already know this was going to happen, you always knew. Maybe not consciously, but subconsciously you had to have known."

Sam took in a deep breath in reply and grabbed Mercedes' hand abruptly. _He sure stopped his BS fast. "_Mercy, baby…"

"Yes?"

"You know that I've got you, right?" He said, like he was bracing for something. "I won't let anything happen to you. _Ever. _Okay?"

What was it this time? Was Sam supposed to die too? Who was next? Despite what he said, Mercedes felt fear—cold and rampant run through her body. She knew deep down that he would protect her, but what about everyone else? What about himself?

"Okay then, you might as well tell her." Damien said impatiently.

"Damien came to help us and to come get Quinn because...well. I'm sure more people on our side will be showing up soon enough…" He sighed dejectedly, "There's going to be a war."

Her confusion and fear turned into utter misery. A war. _A fucking war. _People in the military fought wars—grown men who knew what they were doing. Grown human men that knew what they were getting into and willingly fought. All people that Mercedes knew in her family that did their time and were now old and gray. Or people Mercedes didn't know—unknown heroes. Not men she had to see leave. Not men she had grown attached to on an emotional and physical level. Not her man. _Not Sam._

She could feel her heartbeat in her head and bile rising in her throat. Mercedes heard Sam asking Damien quietly how many people were coming to help, but she couldn't really concentrate on anything other than the terror that was making her breathless. Mercedes didn't comprehend the severity of the situation. Not fully, not yet. She was in total shock.

"Who—" Mercedes started too loudly, trying to calm down enough to ask properly, "Who's fighting in this war?"

"We are, of course." His face turned dark for a moment. "I mean, the Elites are. Not the Promises. Not you. _Never _you."

"Why not?"

"_No._" He told her. He said it with such finality that Mercedes knew there was no debate. That's not what scared her though. And then fear roared through her once again.

"Wait—are _you _fighting in this war?"

"Of course I am."

"No." Mercedes said before swallowing the lump in her throat down. Not Sam. _No. _She tried talking again, her voice sharper, "You can't Sam. You're not immortal anymore—you're _human. _You'll be killed in seconds against those people. You can't. What if, what if you—you _can't. _You can't go."

She knew at this point she was sounding desperate. Hell, she was already desperate and this just made things worse. He would be killed if he left to fight. It was like being sentenced to death, going off into a war he couldn't defend himself in. Mercedes grabbed Sam's hands and squeezed them so hard she was sure it hurt. She tried to form more words to express her concern but she could barely breathe. Mercedes was laboring for breath—and she was on the verge of passing out—because Sam was going to _leave _her. This war was taking him away from her.

"I don't want to go, but I _have_ to Mercy. It's all I can do now. I'm a man—_your_ man—and I refuse to sit and hide while other people fight my battles. I'm fighting in this war and you can't stop that from happening."

Sam avoided her eyes throughout the entire plea, and when he finally looked at her, her stomach dropped. Sadness, grief, and despondency beyond comprehension stared back into her eyes. She wouldn't have understood the misery he was showing unless she didn't already feel it herself. Sam didn't want to leave, but he was going to anyway, no matter what she said. He was going to go out and fight for her when he stood little to no chance—even with other Elites' help—against an army of immortals. They found each other again and now something else was tearing them apart. A lump larger than she had ever felt lodged itself in her throat. Mercedes was surprised she kept her tears down this long. She wouldn't be able to keep it halfway together for much longer.

"S-Sam." The name came out as a pathetic cry.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Mercedes couldn't hold her emotions in anymore. Sam yanked her into her chest and crushed her in an embrace. Damien was probably off somewhere gagging or rolling his eyes—but Mercedes didn't care. She really didn't.

"I'm going to go get some stuff we need—clothes and such. I'll be back later." Damien said, clearing his throat. Good. He needed to leave. Help or not, Mercedes needed to be alone with Sam right now.

"I don't want you to leave me." Mercedes whispered.

"I don't want to leave you." But he was going to anyway.

"Do you know," She sniffled, "Do you know how much longer we have?"

He brought up a hand to cup her face, looking so impossibly sad. "Damien says maybe a week or two."

In a week or two—fourteen days or only seven—Sam was going to go off to war. He was going off to a war he would be maimed in for sure, and possibly killed. _Probably _killed.

There was still so much she hadn't got to say to Sam. So much they had yet to do. They had been on one lone date, and she wanted so many more with him. She wanted to ride this relationship out and see where it went. She wanted so much _more_ with him. Mercedes wanted everything with Sam. She couldn't do everything in one week or two. Mercedes pulled away quickly to chance a look at that sad face. No trace of tears. How was he keeping it together?

"Not enough time." She said, because telling him how heartbroken she was when she didn't remember giving him her heart would be weird.

"A lifetime isn't enough time." He replied, and then her heart squeezed again. A lifetime. He wanted her for more than that.

"Why did you have to say that?"

"I'm sorry."

She was all cried out.

* * *

Half an hour later Damien brought back t-shirts and sweat pants he bought from Wal Mart. He managed to pick out a graphic tee and purple sweats, even without knowing that her favorite color was purple, without knowing what her size was. Sam probably told him. Her heart hurt at the thought.

She wasn't sure how Damien or Sam acquired all the money they had been blowing through the past day in a half, but Mercedes didn't care. She was finding out that beyond Sam and her family, she didn't care about much else. And right now, as Damien left again to go get some food, she wanted to kiss Sam. Mercedes didn't know why Damien didn't get food when he was already out getting clothes, but she wasn't going to worry about it. Her mouth was pressed against Sam's before Damien could leave the room.

"Can't you two actually have a conversation?" Damien was saying behind a laugh as Sam reached out and shut the door without breaking away from Mercedes. She was pretty sure Sam didn't care about Damien either.

Sam turned them around and pushed her against the door, grabbing her sides. Mercedes broke away to breathe, sighing when Sam left her lips to kiss her neck. She missed this. It had been far too long. Around the time Sam started suckling her throat Mercedes realized that she wanted to do something for Sam too. Something to make him sigh and buck against her—like she was on the verge of doing now. But not in this room. Not when in about twenty minutes or so Damien would be knocking on the same door she was pressed against.

"Sa…Sam," Mercedes breathed, swallowing a moan when his fingers started inching closer to her breasts, "Samm…"

"Hmm?"

"Let's go back to our room." The way Mercedes said it must've sparked something in Sam because he grabbed the back of her knees and hitched them around his hips. Barely breaking the kiss, Sam somehow managed to carry her all the way back to their room. She would've been surprised that he could carry all of her weight if they weren't in the situation they were in. Nothing surprised her anymore. She couldn't remember doors opening or closing. She didn't know anything at the moment other than Sam's lips and what they were doing to her.

By the time Mercedes started paying attention to her surroundings she was being laid down on something soft. Their bed. Mercedes lifted up to meet his lips, because it had been a moment since they kissed and that was too long. She pulled away to look at her man. Sam's eyes were foggy and dark again, and his jaw was set tight. What was he thinking? Mercedes latched onto the skin of his neck and kissed there, trying to distract whatever thoughts he had that didn't involve them. It was selfish, but Mercedes didn't care, not when she was spurred on by Sam's groans.

She didn't know what had come over her in order to attack him like she was. Mercedes couldn't help it. Maybe if it was just another regular day she would've been more hesitant, but it wasn't and they only had maybe two weeks. There wasn't time to be hesitant. She sucked at the spot on his neck where his pulse was beating rapidly. Sam sighed, bracing himself above her on one arm and not putting any of his weight on her. Why was beyond Mercedes. She wanted his weight on her. All of it. Everywhere.

Mercedes pulled him down to her at that thought, and kissed Sam so hard she saw stars behind her eyes. Her fingers were playing with the edge of his shirt, trying to figure out a way to get it off of him without having to move away. It was then that she felt something hard and prominent pressing into her. It confused Mercedes until she realized what it was. She adjusted her hips, the bulge in his jeans now pushing into her fully. _There. _The feeling was indescribable. Mercedes was about to start rolling her hips when Sam jumped off of her as if doused with water.

"Sorry, _God_…" Sam was shaking his head, like he was pulling himself out of a trance. "I know this is still new to you—I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Any particular reason why you would think that?" Mercedes tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice but failed. Oh well. It was his fault; he stopped something they both wanted.

"You…you're…" His voice was throaty and thick. Her stomach clenched and she wanted Sam over her, kissing her again. Mercedes was getting frustrated that petty shit kept distracting them from that. "To you we've known each other for a couple of weeks at best. I don't want you to think that I'm a pervert or that I'm trying to get in your pants. You're so much more to me than that."

Mercedes nodded, half listening. She wouldn't dare look into the implications of his comment because her heart would just start hurting again. And she didn't want that. She wanted Sam. Touching her, kissing her. "I know Sam. I know, and I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable, but this—kissing me and then stopping—_this _is making me uncomfortable."

Sam bit his lip, taking in the sight of Mercedes lying on a bed, kissed and breathless. Her tank top strap was halfway down her arm. "I'm just trying to—"

Mercedes licked her lips, not even listening to him anymore. "You can touch me Sam. I want you to, so—so you can. Don't stop something we both want."

Because he was already going to leave her eventually and this was all they had now.

"Okay," He said, "Okay."

Sam kissed her again, gentler than before, but at least he didn't stop. Soon though—probably from Mercedes' doing—the kisses became hotter, slower, and gentle wasn't a part of any of it. At some point Mercedes' legs locked around his hips, but that was only because she didn't want him jumping away from her anymore. Finally, _finally, _she felt the hard ridge of Sam press into her again. She rolled against him before he could stop them. Mercedes expected him to stop the sweet torture she was inflicting on upon them, but his kisses only got sloppier and his face fell to her shoulder in a groan. She clutched his strong back with her tiny hands and grinded into him harder. This time it was Mercedes that pulled away from his mouth, overwhelmed. She had turned into a whimpering mess.

At this point Sam had taken the reigns. He wasn't stopping but he wasn't going any further. The sweetest torture. Mercedes wanted him to take his shirt off already but she was a shivering, whimpering bundle of nerves. And breathless, so breathless.

"I know you said that, that I can touch you…but I just—_Christ_—I, I have to be sure…" He wasn't making much sense but she got the gist.

"Yes, yes, _please_."

Sam's warm hands found her ribs, but this time he only stopped there for a moment before sliding up and then moving over to cup her breast. Mercedes mewled appreciatively in his ear. He squeezed her breast softly before massaging it and brushed a thumb across her pebbled nipple. Mercedes wasn't expecting desire to rush through her like this. She didn't think her lust for Sam could become anymore unbridled, but it did.

"_Sam_…"

"Yeah?"

"Could you, maybe, please…more?" Mercedes was almost too embarrassed to ask. But she wanted him to touch her more than she was embarrassed. So much more.

Her words obviously got to him, because after that he sort of lost it. Sam's hands were hot, all over her so fast and hard she became dizzy. Big warm hands and fervent kisses, and _God_, he was still moving against her. She didn't know how much more she would be able to take before she would end up door banging stopped Sam in the process of lifting her shirt up. Mercedes was going to tell Sam to keep going, fuck Damien and whatever he was bringing them, but then he was gone. His warm body blanketing her and those big hands, his hot lips, everything.

When she opened her eyes Sam was out of her line of sight and she almost panicked. It must've been the Promise thing, making her useless the moment Sam wasn't in her line of vision. She sat up, weak with lust, frustrated, and irrationally lonely. Sam would come back with food she didn't feel like eating and maybe she could get him on her again.

"Mercy," Sam said as he came back into the room, a large pizza box held effortlessly in one hand, "We have to eat."

Mercedes could still taste Sam in her mouth and she wanted more of that, but she obliged, just for his sake. Throughout the silent meal she managed to eat a slice of sausage pizza. It was a comfortable silence in which Sam ate the whole box, leaving a few slices for her out of courtesy, because they both knew she wasn't going to eat anymore. She couldn't, not yet, eating was still hard. What bothered her though, was that Sam didn't make any eye contact with her throughout their supper. What the hell was up with that?

"Sam why—"

"Christmas break," He said, cutting her off. "That's when the Elites will be here."

So that's why he looked so defeated. The war. And that's what he meant by 'the Elites will be here'. Because those monsters weren't coming over for tea and cookies, that was for damn sure. Christmas break was a week and a half away. Maybe ten days. Ten days.

She didn't know what to say. Mercedes didn't even bother trying because she would probably end up doing something stupid like crying.

"There are quite a few people on our side that I don't remember knowing. They're coming to help. They'll be bringing their Promises with them and you all will go somewhere safe where that—that _Council _can't touch you." He shook his head, clearly pissed off.

"We're going to try and ambush them, so it should start at the very beginning of Holiday. I don't know when it will be over."

Mercedes listened carefully, making sure to keep her feelings down. She disagreed wholeheartedly with Sam fighting, but she wasn't going to press him on the subject. She knew this was already a hard situation.

She chewed absently on her crust. "What are we going to do about Quinn?"

He sighed in displeasure, combing a hand through his hair. He was thinking deeply about something. "I don't know Mercy. I really didn't think I would have to deal with her anymore after…us. I thought it would be different."

"I know," She agreed, "I did too."

* * *

**THANK YOU SOO MUCH: Guest, Samcedes5ever (so flattered you read my story so late, this story is written in the night hours, after all), Kimpa7809, Haitianm (Quinn the pain and Damien the jerk are a match made in Elitist, lol) ,** **suninthenightsky (haha, I think Quinn needs a person like Damien, personally),** **carebearcaryn21, AntoniaSayonara, Oxford (I always love the speculation you go through when you review),** **LovesamcedesStory (the mom talk is coming up), LadiJ (glad you lol-ed like I did at that part last chapter),** **Jadziwine**, **TeamSethLover (I've missed your weird funny reviews!), Guest, rocklesson86, Jujubee58, mh, and** **randomlittleme.**

**NCC-0419 (lol, no one likes Quinn! And samcex…I won't give anything away. I'm flattered at your offer to beta but this is a faster way to get chapters out, honestly. I post within thirty minutes of finishing the writing process as I write these thank yous. I figure this is easier.), **

**krazykay23(Again, I'm in love with your long reviews. They make me melt. Sam ain't shit and we all know it, lol. I'm glad you still hold reserved feelings for Damien. Honestly, trust isn't given so quickly and he might prove himself…in time. Thinking of Sam's age has me wondering how to answer the question. I might incorporate it into a chapter soon. Thank you for reviewing!)**

**What do we think about the rest of the convo? Damien? The Samcedes? The impending war? Quinn and everyone else that will soon arrive? How do we feel about this chapter?**

*****It's been nine long days and a lot has happened in the world. There's a lot going on and I pray this story can get your mind off it, if only for a little while.*****


	21. Mine Again

**Lying beside you**  
**Here in the dark**  
**Feeling your heart beat with mine,**  
**Softly you whisper**  
**You're so sincere,**  
**How could our love be so blind?**

* * *

Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair as him and Mercedes finished their dinner.

The past two days had been horrible and amazing for him. On Friday he had taken his girl out on their first date, and it was everything for him. She had come to him that night, in her button down and tight jeans, looking every part of perfect that he imagined she would. He couldn't decide which he liked better, her in a nightshirt or in those fuckable clothes. It was odd how she could look every part of the seductress he remembered, and yet stand in front of him, shy as ever. Mercy didn't know how dangerously close he was that night to doing something she wasn't mentally ready for. Because her body was ready for it, he knew all too well…

She spent their date chewing on her plump lips and sighing nervously, as if Sam was anything but mesmerized by her. God, she was so beautiful that night. Mercedes was gorgeous all the time, but something was different about her then. About them. He didn't know. Maybe it was that the date really showed him how the rest of his life on earth could be. Late night dates and Mercedes and kissing. God, what a way to live.

He knew that Mercedes had started becoming more comfortable around him. She relaxed into her seat and let her clothes droop wonderfully around her. Sam could tell that she had tried to be modest with her clothes, but her body could only be concealed so much. Her hips swelled out in those tight jeans, round and captivating, and that button down only silhouetted the curves that lay underneath it. Mercedes' black tank top peeked out of her shirt and clung to her skin, that small stomach and her breasts. Fucking cleavage.

Sam knew that those few undone buttons weren't enough to show much of anything, but it was his Mercy, and she had body for days. Those tanned breasts strained and pushed out of her tank like the fabric couldn't contain them. And her black-blue curls rested against her, covering part of her chest. Soon, Sam had to devour his Reese's Pieces because he was close to devouring her. Mercedes was mouthwatering.

He really didn't know why she was so surprised when he said that he wanted to kiss her. Sam had been ogling her the whole night—a kiss was the tamest thing he wanted. She fought him the whole way into it, talking about him just getting out of a relationship and whatever else she said. Sam barely paid attention to that because it was BS. He didn't want Quinn, those twittering girls from the concession, or the hotel receptionist. Sam wanted Mercedes. He wanted her then, he wanted Mercedes now, and he'd want her forever.

So he made sure that he kissed her before she could deny that. He made sure that her 'first' kiss was soft and gentle. It was just a simple press, really. And then before she could start spouting off her insecurities like he knew she would, he skimmed his hands down to her waist and kissed her again. Mercedes was sweet and soft, and a little buttery from the popcorn, but delicious all the same. Kissing Mercedes was like coming home. She tangled her hands in his hair and tugged, relinquishing control and letting him guide her. Then, when she began to kiss him harder, Sam stopped—for her sake. Not his.

Sam stopped them then because if he didn't, he would've ended up ripping her clothes off. From the way she looked up at him that night with those big brown eyes—innocent and lustful—to her heaving chest… He didn't know if could control himself for much longer. Who knows if she would've stopped them? Fuck knows he wouldn't have. And Mercedes would've regretted it. He didn't want that.

So he gave her some space and they cooled off during the remainder of the movie. As they walked hand in hand out of the movie room, he figured their date was going to end on a good note. It had been amazing thus far. Perfect. He made sure Mercedes had fun, got to kiss her and didn't lose his self-control, didn't take her somewhere quiet and secluded and have his way with her.

Then Damien showed up.

After the blissful time that he shared with Mercedes, all thoughts of Elites and previous threats of danger fled from his mind. And then Damien came and brought all those thoughts back. He kept name dropping terminology he knew Mercedes wouldn't understand, and had the audacity to leer at her like some pervert. If Damien wasn't there to help, he would've kicked his ass.

Damien had come with information, vital information on the Elite Council's whereabouts and intentions. It was hard, trying to get Damien's part of the story while driving at the speed of light and dodging Mercedes' questions. Damien knew that Mark—the Elitist that hated Sam's guts—was planning on bringing a few spies down to Earth to monitor Sam because he couldn't Reach him anymore. That was because of Damien Shadowing him, of course. And once Mark figured out what was going on—which Damien was sure he already had at this point—he was going to tell the Council. The Elite Council would then send reinforcements after Sam and Mercedes to tear them apart or worse, kill them.

At the time Damien didn't know what the council was doing but he did know that their spies were probably hot on their trails. So Sam drove as far away from Lima as he could—two towns over and to a Renaissance Hotel—so they could recuperate. Sam got two rooms for a couple nights while Damien took the Jeep and ran patrols, scanning the area for spies and getting their dinner.

Mercedes was confused and tired the entire time, asking questions and staring down the hotel receptionist like a hawk. He would've found it adorable if it wasn't for the fact that their lives were in danger. _Her _life was in danger.

He tried losing himself in kissing her, and that worked for a while, but Damien knocked on their hotel room door before anything good could happen. Damien brought the reality of their situation back to the surface. And with reality came the bad stuff. He managed to get her to eat dinner, and for that he felt like a champion. Sam knew that she was battling bulimia, _again, _and that was just one more thing they had to conquer. Mercedes for whatever reason—because quite frankly he didn't know why—thought that she needed to lose weight. It was beyond ridiculous. Sam wanted his Mercy with curves. That's one of the things he loved most about her.

Sam hated knowing that Mercedes felt like she wasn't good enough. He hated knowing that at any point in time she could be killed and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He hated knowing that when she slept, nightmares plagued her and there was nothing he could do to make them go away. He hated knowing that as he held her at night, their days were numbered—literally.

Saturday was turning out to be one of the worst days of Sam's life. It didn't start off horrible, but it sure as hell turned out that way. He woke up early, tidied their room up, threw trash away and watched a little television. He of course watched TV lying next to Mercedes' sleeping form, and it was a really nice way to start the day actually. Sam could do that for the rest of his life.

That was one of the good moments today.

Things got a little heated while he was watching MSNBC, and remarkably Mercedes wasn't conscious to witness any of it. She had twisted and turned a lot in her sleep, murmuring nonsense. After a while she kicked the cover off of her in favor of curling into Sam's side, locking a leg around him. It was safe to say that he didn't pay attention to the news anymore after that. What man would?

Mercedes was in a button down shirt, and what looked to be a bra and panties. She was so womanly and soft, pressed up beside him, with her thick thigh enfolded with his. She was so lovely and soft and Sam wanted her so, so bad. It was painful.

She snuggled closer to him—in sync with his body's reaction—nestled even closer, her breasts compressed against his arm, and Sam had to remember a few things. Like, he had to remember that she didn't know that they were meant for each other in every possible way, and that he couldn't wake her up with kisses. Couldn't roll on top of her and cover her with kisses, because she probably wouldn't be okay with that. He would have a lot of time to convince her that it was what she wanted, though. He could persuade her by running his lips over her neck and that spot behind her ear she didn't even remember having. But he remembered that wasn't okay.

So unfortunately, Sam had to get his mind on something else then. And he needed a shower.

* * *

Slipping out from under Mercedes felt like the most horrible thing to do that morning, but if he didn't she would've been in trouble. Sam wasn't going to be another bad guy in her life forcing something upon her. The hot water felt good on his body, and helped ease some of his stress, but it could only do so much. Images of Mercy kept flashing through his head—her in her underwear curled around him, murmuring in words that made no sense. Mercy clinging closer to him and sighing, her eyes sleepily gazing at his lips. God.

Sam hurried up and switched the water to cold. There truly wasn't any time to be relieving himself when The Elite Council was hot on their trails.

Halfway through toweling off he remembered that he hadn't brought any clothes to the bathroom. Sam considered walking into the room naked, but Mercedes would probably wake up and freak out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom.

Sam realized that they were approaching the afternoon when he looked over at their bed and Mercedes wasn't there, a ray of sunlight on her pillow. He didn't know how much time he spent in the bathroom, but when he left Mercedes was asleep and when he returned she was in the mirror, messing with her hair. She was concentrating on a particular black-blue strand that was a tad frizzier than the rest with a frown on her lips. He resisted rolling his eyes. She was gorgeous and frizzy hair couldn't change that.

"_Hey," Sam greeted her, "I thought you were still sleeping."_

_Mercedes shrugged, turning away and closing her eyes at the sight of him picking up his jeans. He could hear her heartbeat accelerate. _

"_You should go into the bathroom for all of that." She squeaked._

_Maybe if you come with me I will. _

_Instead of saying that, he laughed at her uneasiness and dropped his towel, stepping into his jeans from last night. "I didn't think about it. I thought you were still sleeping."_

_She snorted. "That's no excuse."_

"_Sorry Mercy," He replied, zipping up his pants, "I'll make sure I have your approval next time."_

_Because there was definitely going to be a next time. "Alright, you can look now."_

_Mercedes tentatively did, opening her eyes slowly like he may have still been changing even then. He saw her eyes take in the sight of him shirtless and still slightly wet. Her eyes darkened. She shifted on her feet for a moment, and then asked him something. He really didn't know what she said, something about his shirt or maybe asking where it was, but that wasn't important. Not anymore. _

_Something sweet—sweeter than sweet—wafted to his nose. Sam almost couldn't place it, but then he remembered where he had smelled that before. It was in her mind, the night that he had touched her for the first time. It was distinctively Mercedes, but more potent. Her arousal. _

_Sam's whole body went rigid and his pants got tighter than they had ever been. He was pretty sure, actually, that if he dumped a whole ice chest on his lap he would still be hard. His hand twitched impulsively, needing to grab Mercedes. Because she needed him, and she was his Promise and he would always give her what she needed— _

"_Your shirt…what's wrong?"_

_Mercedes was worried, and Sam knew it, but she was concerned for all the wrong reasons. She should've been worried because he could smell her lust and the feeling was quite mutual and she was about to feel how much so. "You…I can smell…"_

_Her beautiful eyes squinted in confusion. God, wasn't it obvious? Mercedes took a step toward him and her scent only got stronger, fogging up his brain. "Smell what?"_

_Apparently not._

_She was getting closer to him, and now there was no turning back. Because the moment she touched him he wouldn't fight it any longer. Sam wouldn't fight throwing her back on the bed or pushing her against a wall because—because Mercedes was his and she needed him and he had to give her what she needed—_

_Sam shook his head. "_You_."_

_Mercedes face looked hurt for a moment and then she casted her eyes down. "Sorry."_

_Wait, what? Sorry for what? _

_Sam was incredulous. Was Mercedes apologizing for smelling good? Was she really apologizing for smelling so fucking delicious that he was about to lose it? The nerve of her, getting aroused and feeling ashamed because she didn't realize that he was salivating. Honestly. _

_Mercedes was still walking away. Sam couldn't let her leave feeling the way she did. He stuck his arm out and stopped her, inhaling again. "I didn't mean—Mercedes you smell so…so…It's hard for me to explain. Just hurry and get your shower so we can talk to Damien."_

_Ugh, Damien. Thank God he reminded himself what they were there for, because amidst all the lovely moments with his woman he damn near forgot. It was so easy to, with Mercy staring up at him with those innocent eyes. _

"_Okay." She didn't even know._

_So he stopped her again by pulling her toward him. "You're amazing, Mercy, did you know that? You're perfect."_

_She had to know. Mercedes had to know that she was perfect and beautiful and all his. His. He curled a hand around her waist and held her still because she was his. He needed to hold her and feel her, possess her and claim her because Mercedes was his Promise. All his and no one else's. _

_He swooped down and kissed her, fierce, hard and fast. Possession and lust rolled into one so hot that he didn't know which one he was fueled by. But love was there, of course. Always. She shyly reached out her tongue to swipe his lip and he about lost it, pushing her against the wall behind them. _

_Mercedes moaned, fucking whimpered into his mouth, and he was so close to being done. So close to reaching down and grabbing her ass. He wanted to squeeze and massage and grasp her thigh so he could hitch it on his hip and be even closer to her. Sam clutched her ribcage instead. _

_Sam pulled back slowly because if he didn't he was going to break and lose it. Her scent was assaulting his senses, soaking into his head and slowly taking over. She needed him, and he wanted to give it to her, but he couldn't. Not yet, not when Damien was waiting and so much was going on._

_It was hard though, when the only girl he'd ever want was making everything else disappear around them._

* * *

Mercedes was a trooper throughout the explanation of Elites. He expected her to be stubborn and not believe a word they said but after Damien shadowed her, well, she didn't have a choice. Sam knew it had to be hard on her, so he rubbed her back as much as possible. And when he explained the Promise process, she took that well too.

Until he said that he knew what she had been doing for the past four years. Six years really, if he counted when her disordered thinking began. Mercedes had jumped up from the bed they were sitting on and paced crazily, muttering to herself and choking back tears. A mental breakdown was not that far away. So he wrapped her up in his arms and let her cry on him. What else could he do? The biggest skeleton in her closest was exposed.

In a way Sam was happy that they would be going home soon because Mercedes needed her mother. He might've been fine running on Mercedes alone and nothing else, but she was different. She needed her family too.

Then Damien revealed that his Promise was Quinn, a huge shocker to Mercedes _and_ him. Of all the people he could've guessed, Quinn was nowhere near his mind. He had just gotten rid of the girl, now here she was, back in his life again. Oddly enough, he could see the connection with Quinn and Damien. He was an asshole; she was a serious bitch sometimes. It worked.

But God, did the Elite Council really have to pair Damien with _Quinn? _He didn't want to go through her drama again. Not when she was liable to take her heartbreak out on Mercedes. Mercedes didn't need that. And she _definitely _didn't need Damien pulling his shit either.

Seriously, help or not Sam was about to kick his ass when he started his mess about Quinn's grief being Mercedes' fault. Because it wasn't, if anything it was Sam's fault.

Despite Mercedes talking about the tables being turned and whatever other sympathetic shit she said, Sam didn't care. He'd spent the better part of five years watching Mercedes be talked down to, so of course he was fucking done with that shit.

Mercedes had pushed him away when he tried to shield her from the ugly truths that Damien was spitting at her, and that hurt. He was just trying to protect her like he always did, and this was no exception. But still, she pushed him away. Then the next whammy of the night that was dropped on them.

There was going to be a war.

It wasn't that surprising to Sam actually, that they were going to have to fight the others. It didn't surprise him at all, because fighting was the only thing that worked. That's how wars were won, and how countries were formed. Fighting. If Sam honestly believed that running away with Mercedes for the rest of their human lives was enough to keep them alive he'd take that chance. But it wasn't.

Mercedes went a little crazy after that. She couldn't form words, her heart beat stopped a little bit then sputtered back to life. She asked a question about who was fighting in the war and he answered honestly. He was fighting in it, of course, and she was going to go somewhere safe.

Sam was glad that Damien had reinforcements coming, because he was more than sure that he was going to die against an army of Elites. Maybe they'd actually stand a chance in he had people on his side.

Mercedes had sobbed against him again, a broken sound, pain and anguish and disbelief radiating off of her. She swore up and down that he couldn't leave her, but he _had _to. Didn't she understand that? He wasn't going to go out to war with a death wish, but there was no way he was staying and letting someone else fight his battles. Sam was a man, Mercedes' man, and he was gonna go defend her. It was who he was—and what he used to be. He was fighting for her, for him, for their love. Sam knew there was a great chance he was going to get himself killed, but there wasn't any other choice.

So when she finally accepted the fate of him eventually leaving her, Mercedes pressed her lips to his in such an urgency he was breathless. She wanted him to touch her, kiss her, and who was Sam to deny her that?

In the back of his mind throughout their exchange he wondered if Mercedes was attacking him with such fervor because he was leaving soon. Then he realized that she probably was. And that's not what Sam wanted, so he was glad when Damien knocked on their door stopping them. He wanted his girl to come at him because she was ready to give herself to him, not because he could be dying soon.

Damien brought them pizza and Dr. Pepper, Sam's favorite meal combinations, and he made sure to eat as much as possible. Mercy managed to eat a slice. It broke his heart. Sam was too stressed out to fight with Mercedes about eating. He loved her with everything he was, and he felt like a hero every time she ate in front of him, but he couldn't fight the world and her too. He needed her on his side, not against him.

Damien came with dinner bearing the bad news of how long they hand until the war. He said ten days.

Ten days to get Quinn to be with Damien. Ten days to get all the Promises and Elites together for possibly their last time. Ten days to train and get ready for war. Ten days to be with Mercedes and show her how much he loved her.

It wasn't enough time.

* * *

Luckily, Damien went to Wal Mart while he was patrolling the area and picked up some clothes for them so Mercedes could have something fresh and clean to wear tonight. Though Sam would always prefer her in a shirt—or better, nothing.

While she went to the bathroom to change Sam changed into sweatpants and contemplated ways to talk to Quinn. He could try and meet up with her sometime tomorrow when he dropped off Mercedes at her house so she didn't have to deal with Quinn. That would be a great idea, actually. Sam was feeling pretty good about himself when Mercedes left the bathroom, clad in her graphic tee and sweats. She was endearing.

As much as the sight of Mercedes coming to lay in bed with him fueled his desire for her, he just wanted to cuddle with her tonight. That sounded girly and shit, but whatever. Only insecure man worried about how it sounded when they admitted that they liked to cuddle. Besides, it was a whole different ballgame when you loved each other. It just was.

"Sam?" Mercedes asked sleepily, nuzzling his neck.

He pulled her until she was completely on top of him. There, much better. "Yeah?"

"I have to tell you something."

Sam was almost on the verge of drifting into a good sleep, but this sobered him right out of it. "What?"

"I…" The soft warm weight of Mercedes tensed up.

He rubbed her back soothingly, trying to get her to relax into him again. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

"I know," She said, biting her lip, "But it's just, you have a lot going on already and I don't want to put more stress on you—"

He tightened his hold on her. "Mercy." She shivered at his tone.

"I don't care if I have to go save the world tomorrow, I'll always have time for you."

"Okay," She started hesitantly, "Well yesterday when we were driving over here I called my mom to tell her I was going to be at a friend's house for a couple of days like you said…"

"...And?"

"_And, _she kind of alluded to wanting to have a talk with me. I think I know why."

Sam was confused. "Okay?"

"Well," Mercedes sighed, "I think mom knows about my…you know. And she probably wants to give me a huge lecture about—about _that_ and going to therapists and I just can't."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She hid her face in his neck. "Willyougohomewithme?"

"What?"

"Only for a few hours," She pleaded, looking at him, "So she won't immediately jump down my throat about the food in the trash—"

"_What?_"

Sam was trying to keep up with the conversation, but she was starting to ramble.

"…And then you can leave, I promise."

He shook his head, "Mercedes, hold on."

She stopped.

"Start from the beginning and tell me what you said."

"Oh," Mercedes chuckled nervously, "I was asking if you would go home with me."

"Why?" As much as Sam loved following her wherever she went, if her mother wanted to talk to her daughter, he had to respect that.

"Because I—I—" Her eyes filled with tears, "I just _can't _deal with her tomorrow Sam! I'm already upset about you leaving and now…now…"

Mercedes was practically in hysterics again. He could see the panic in her eyes. Her eyes were glassy, like she wasn't even there with him. Something told him that Mercedes had finally opened the dam of emotions she kept at bay for so long. She was an open book now, and what did he see?

Fear. Panic. Grief. Maybe even heartbreak.

He cradled her in his arms and waited for her wave of hysteria to pass. It did.

"Mercedes, I'm sorry."

"Sam—"

"No," He said firmly, cutting her off, "I'm sorry because I can't do this for you. I'm sorry because I _won't _do this with you. We all have our own personal demons to face, Mercy. I can't hold your hand and make talking to your mother any easier. You have to face that alone, and come out stronger like we both know you can. She's your mom and no matter what she wants what's best for you."

Mercedes looked at him with half-crazed eyes. "And what if she sends me to a treatment facility, huh? What then? You want her tearing us apart even more then we're gonna be?"

"No, of course I don't. But this has to happen; you have to talk to your mother Mercedes. You _have _to get better. That's all I want."

"Mom's gonna make me go inpatient, Sam. She's going to make me leave and I won't have a choice. How can I be safe from the Council in a crazy home?"

Sam bit his lip in thought. What Mercedes was saying had a point. "Okay, okay. I understand now, and I'll help you. But you need to promise me something."

She squinted. "What?"

"You have to go to therapy once this is all over. You have to get better. Even if—even if I'm not with you anymore to support you through it."

Mercedes stared at him for a moment. Then her expression fell. Her eyes filled with tears again and she smashed her face into his neck, breathing in deep.

"I promise."

* * *

**THANK YOU: carebearcaryn21, TeamSethLover, Haitianm, suninthenightsky, AntoniaSayonara (I lol-ed at your review), LovesamcedesStory, LadiJ, Samcedes5ever (its 3:14 a.m. where I am and look at us, we're people of the night), krazykay23 (and the award for consistently making me squeal with delight over long reviews goes to…), randomlittleme, Oxford, TBloves2read, and NCC-0419.**

**Finally we get Sam's POV! It was long overdue, again, but I hope I didn't disappoint. I felt like adding what Sam was going through during chapter 19 instead of rehashing the heat from last chapter, because it would actually be something new. Did we like it? **

**So how do we feel about Sam in this one? Did you enjoy him going over how he felt during the last few chapters or…? Did you like how he dealt with Mercedes? And are you excited for the Mercedes-Mom-Sam talk next chapter?**

**Please review!**


	22. I am Free

**You gave me a breath of life**

**Unclouded my eyes**

**With a sweet serenity**

**Lighting a ray of hope for me...**

**And now I am free...**

…

**Free to live**

**Free to laugh**

**Free to soar**

**Free to shine**

**Free to give**

**Free to love**

**Free enough to fly**

* * *

When she got up the next morning, Mercedes was weary. She had gotten some great sleep lying on top of Sam/curled around him, but he couldn't keep all of her inner demons away. Today was Sunday, the day of days. The Sunday that she had to go home and talk to her mother about her eating disorder. Among other things. Like her father, and what he had done to her mother, and Sam. Because Sam was coming along too.

Call her a coward for not going to her mom alone, but she didn't care. Her mother was terrifying and with everything else Mercedes was dealing with at the moment; a coward was the least of her worries.

She was scared. She was scared for oh, so many reasons. For starters, she was scared of her mother and what would go down once they went home. Mercedes didn't want to deal with a talk about eating disorders when there were other pressing matters. The second being that her—she still didn't know what to call Sam because 'boyfriend' just didn't seem to do them any justice—_Sam _was going off to a war. The third being that she didn't know how to approach the Quinn-Damien situation, with Damien breathing down their necks and Quinn hating her and all…

And lastly, what about the aftermath?

If the war went well—well in the sense that Sam lived—Mercedes had every intention on being with him, and going back to her Trouble Tone co-captain duties. What about therapy? Going inpatient, or outpatient? What about her father and her mother? Could everything really go back to normal after a war and fearing for her life? Would she have to move to somewhere else with Sam? Somewhere supernatural? Because there was no way in hell she was going to leave Sam's side. That wasn't an option.

Sam had become the most important man in her life. No, he had become the most important _person _in her life. Wherever he went she would follow, and vice versa. Mercedes felt like—not like she would know from prior experience—she had just had an emotional shift. Where her parents used to be her stability and security, Sam was there. When she thought of home, her mother gardening in the backyard and making dinner didn't come to mind anymore. Now, when Mercedes thought of home, she saw blonde hair and just cut green grass eyes. Kissing and touching and feeling. Sam was home.

So what happened if he never made it back from the war?

She didn't want to think about it, but…

No.

"Mercy?"

She looked up from the pile of clothes she was folding. Her and Sam were packing up and getting ready to leave of Renaissance hotel. Or Hotel of Revelations, as she called it. Mercedes slipped on her button down from two nights ago because she believed it to be the cleanest, her bra and jeans. After being in the same room as Sam the first night her panties were ruined, so it was pointless to wear them.

"Yeah?" Mercedes replied, looking over at him to where he was sitting on their bed, slipping on his socks and shoes.

"I'm going to go turn in the room key, and Damien's going to go take you to the Jeep."

She watched him check his pockets for his car keys before asking him, "Why is Damien taking me to the Jeep? I mean, I don't mind going with Damien, but—"

"Because," Sam said, with a pained look on his face, "You're safer with him right now. Even though his connections tell him ten days, The Council has Elites waiting to ambush us. He's protecting and masking us as best as he can, but until we can meet up with the other Elites coming, you never know. And as much as I hate to say it, Damien's stronger than me right now. As long as I keep this human exterior, I can't protect you as well as he could."

Oh.

"Okay." She said, flashing her Sam a smile because she hated seeing him with that look on his face. The helpless misery look.

With a weird pop noise, Damien was in their room within seconds, not taking the decency to use the door now that Mercedes knew what he was. "Ready?"

"You used the door last night, why not now?" Mercedes asked looking reproachful, as if it was his fault Sam was so upset.

"Unlike last night, you and Sam aren't in the throes of passion." He told her with a grin, noting the look of utter horror on Mercedes' face.

She shook her head and straightened up, pulling her shoulders down. Mercedes was practically a legal adult, and she was _not _going to be made uncomfortable by Damien of all people. Whether they were in the throes of passion or talking, they weren't doing anything wrong. They cared for each other deeply and that was nothing to be ashamed of. Her cheeks were still warm, though. "That is none of your business."

Damien waved her off, blowing breath out of his mouth. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, are you ready now? We haven't any time."

She looked over to Sam, who was staring at her strangely. And just like a magnet, she was hugging him before she could take in a proper breath of air. "Sam, I'm here, don't worry. Please."

Mercedes didn't know what else to say. He was worrying and there was nothing she could do to ease his stress.

"Hurry and get to the car." He whispered into her ear, bending lower and curling his body over hers. Sam let go of Mercedes and backed away, but then surged forward and kissed her deeply. She gripped his shoulders.

Before it could turn into something else Mercedes did the hard work and stepped away from him. She couldn't be around him anymore or else she was never going to leave. Damien looked at her expectantly and she nodded. She was ready to go now.

* * *

"So, tell me about your Promise." Mercedes said to Damien as they walked briskly to an elevator.

He turned to her with an incredulous look, punching a button on the wall to take them to the main floor. "What?"

"Well," She explained, chewing her lip, "I know we didn't get off to the right start, and Quinn probably hates me—"

Damien laughed. "Yeah, she does."

"_But, _I know you care for her deeply like Sam does for me, and it must be torture not being with her. And Quinn can be really nice sometimes. So what I'm saying is, I know you have been watching Quinn and there must be a few things I don't know about her. Things that people should know, like Sam and me."

"There's a _lot _people don't know about her." Damien said with an intense look.

"Care to discuss?"

They stepped into the elevator then, the doors opening and allowing them access. Mercedes wondered faintly what Sam was doing at the moment. Was he giving the receptionist their room keys with a saddened expression? How much longer would she have to see that look on his face?

"Quinn's favorite color is blue," Damien started, pulling Mercedes out of her thoughts, "Sky blue, she watches the sun rise because she can't sleep most of the time. And she hates cheese. Her favorite candy is jolly rancher, watermelon flavor, and she wishes that someone would love her because she's desperately lonely. Contrary to popular belief Quinn doesn't want Finn Hudson even though she likes taking him away from Rachel because it's too easy. She misses being a Cheerio…"

Mercedes listened in awe, that was a lot, and he was still talking. Was Sam like that too? Did he know all the little things about her? She almost laughed. Or course he did.

"…And she honestly thought that Sam would learn to love her. Quinn was steadily falling for him, but he told her to love herself. Samuel did her some good, even if he broke her heart in the process."

The doors opened then, and Damien grasped Mercedes' arm gently and took them outside of the hotel as quickly as he could. "Don't say anything," He breathed harshly into her ear, "There's a concealed Elite lurking around here, and he can't sense you, but he can hear you."

Mercedes' heart stopped and she nodded, fearing for her life and Sam's. _Where was he?_

Damien threw open the Jeep's backseat door and ushered Mercedes inside. He put a finger to his lips. She nodded. Mercedes watched with concern and awe as Damien shimmered into a black mist, moving around the car and disappearing. For a moment, Mercedes wondered if one of the Council's spies got him, but then he reappeared, Sam at his side. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam and Damien hurried into the Jeep, Sam peeling out of the parking lot as fast as possible. Mercedes waited until they were a safe distance away before looking at Damien for the okay to speak. No way was she putting their lives in danger because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. Damien looked around outside his window, his eyes glowing and flashing. It took until they were a town away from the hotel and en route to her house for Damien to speak.

"Alright, for now we've lost them. I think the Council has Alexander snooping around for us, do you remember him Samuel?"

Sam jerked his head in a nod. His whole body was tense and Mercedes' heart twisted. She hated seeing him like this. "Yeah, he was always a tool."

"Relax, man. As long as I can get to Quinn soon, we should be fine."

Mercedes thought for a moment. "You're stronger with your Promise around, aren't you?"

"Yes," Damien said, turning to look at her, "Elites are made to be strong enough to protect their Promise once they're together, so naturally being near Quinn would help tenfold."

"Actually," Damien went on, "That's a part of how we hope to overpower the Elite army and Council. Elites are stronger with their mates and that would double our chances of winning."

"Then she should be the second place we go, because there won't be time during the school week." Mercedes stated.

"Sam?" He was being awfully quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Sunday dinners not for like, another couple hours or so. Do you think…maybe we could try and get to Quinn first?" Mercedes didn't really know what to expect from Sam at this point, with how stressed out he was, but she didn't expect him to shrug.

"Okay, text Quinn that I'd like to meet up to talk with her." Was his acquiescent reply as he gently tossed his phone in the backseat. Mercedes sighed and swiped out his message. She didn't know what Sam's problem was, but she was tired of it. As soon as Damien and Quinn were off to a good start, Mercedes was asking him.

Sam's phone vibrated within five minutes. _Okay, _Quinn replied, _Coffee at the Lima Bean at 3?_

_Yeah. _Mercedes texted back.

"Be at the Lima Bean by 3 o'clock, Sam." She said, reaching forward to put his phone back on the console.

Damien ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed.

"Nervous?" Mercedes asked.

"Course I am!" He responded, "I mean, this is _it._ The moment I've been waiting for since this all began—before I even met you two, actually."

She smiled. Mercedes was happy for him, even though her romance was going through a weird trial at the moment. "Don't worry, she'll love you."

Damien mumbled something. He turned around in his seat again, looking at her. "How did you feel when you first met Sam in person?"

"Oh…" How was she supposed to say that the circumstances weren't the best? "Well, at the time there was some drama going on in my old glee club and I was sort of a mess when Sam came for me."

It felt like years ago, that day when Sam came to her rescue in that abandoned hallway. She looked away from Damien and saw Sam's intense stare from the rearview mirror.

"So?" Damien asked.

"_So, _I wasn't paying attention to how I felt about him at the time because I was feeling a lot of other things."

He sighed hopelessly. Sam was still boring holes into her face but she wouldn't look at him.

"Although," Mercedes started again, trying to choose her words wisely, "After the initial shock of being humiliated in front of my peers wore off, I was…enamored. He was helpful and attentive and sweet, which were all of the things I needed at that point. And his looks were all just bonuses. Sam was there for me as a friend." She chuckled, "We stayed friends for maybe all of three days. Then he asked me out, and now we're here."

Mercedes sighed dreamily, thinking about how Sam had swept her off her feet pursuing her. "Damien, when we get to Quinn and you meet her, she'll probably still be healing. Though I'm sure at the sight of you the wound on her heart will close up and be forgotten. Just try and be her friend for a day or two, I know we don't have much time left, but do it. It's chivalry."

He nodded, hanging on to every last word. "Alright."

The conversation ended from that point, with Sam looking at her with a strange expression every now and then.

"I have a confession to make." Damien said as they got closer to the Lima Bean.

"Hmm?" Mercedes hummed. It appeared that Sam was going to be mute until Mercedes could get to the bottom of what his problem was.

"I went to the high school once."

"I thought you weren't going to subject yourself to that 'God awful education'." She said flatly.

"I didn't _enroll,_" Damien rebuffed, clearly offended, "I just went, you know, to catch a peak at Quinn. And I came across a room full of singing women, so I figured, 'she might be in there', and I checked it out. At the time four girls were singing this number and I think it was you I heard—you're a great singer by the way—belting out a line. It took me by surprise, so naturally I hooped and hollered like a fan."

Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows. "That was _you?_"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Huh. Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

And that was the end of that.

* * *

Sam pulled into the Lima Bean a few minutes before three. Mercedes chewed her lip nervously. They needed a game plan, because Quinn would probably want to leave at the sight of Mercedes and this was Damien's only chance. She sighed.

"How are we going to do this?" She thought out loud.

Sam finally spoke a full sentence for the first time in an hour. "You and I are going to go in there together and talk to her for a bit when my cousin _Damien Carter _comes in because he's visiting me for the weekend. He'll introduce herself and Quinn won't really care about me or you anymore and we slip away so they can chat. Sound good?"

"Yeah but, how will Damien know when to come in?" Mercedes asked.

He shrugged. "Give it about ten minutes."

"Got that?" Mercedes asked Damien, looking at him, "Wait for about ten minutes and then come be the knight in shining armor."

"I'm not dense, I can follow simple directions." Damien said with a snort.

"Okay, are we ready?" Sam butted in, getting the attention off a potential argument.

"Yeah." Mercedes said, and then Sam was out of the car and opening up hers. She smiled shyly at him and he returned the smile halfheartedly. He put his hand on the small of her back and together they walked into the Lima Bean.

Sam ordered three cappuccinos while Mercedes got seated. She tried smoothing down her hair, because she didn't want to look like a raggedy girl that Sam left Quinn for. He came and sat down beside her, grabbing for her hand as they waited on Quinn to arrive.

"You have to tell me what's bugging you so much Sam," Mercedes said softly, leaning into his shoulder, "I hate how you're being distant now."

He rubbed circles into her knuckles. "Don't worry about me Mercy; it's not that serious, honestly. I'm just stressed out."

Just stressed out?

"Sam," Mercedes breathed, "How can I not worry when clearly you are? I mean—"

"Sam? Oh, hey Mercedes."

Mercedes and Sam both turned away from each other to see Quinn staring at them. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked great. Mercedes couldn't remember a time when Quinn didn't look good, except when she was going through her postpartum depression a year ago…

"Hey Quinn." Sam greeted her, and Mercedes shyly waved. Her whole plan was to not talk if possible.

"How are you two?" Quinn asked, clearly trying to be polite.

"We're fine." Sam said.

"That's good," Quinn responded with false sincerity. "I'm glad you two are happy."

Sam looked like he was about to roll his eyes. "Quinn, we need to talk."

"Okay," She replied, looking down at the cappuccino their waiter set down before she got there, "Talk."

"Words will never describe how sorry I am for causing you so much pain this past week. Really and truthfully, believe me when I say that I _never_ meant you any harm. You're clever, smart, beautiful and talented. You're a perfect woman. You're just not the perfect woman for me." He told her, making sure to keep eye contact so she could see the truth in his eyes.

"You're a great guy Sam; I don't believe you were set out to hurt me. Not _you, _anyway." She gave Mercedes a pointed look.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked, his voice level. Mercedes was having a hard time staying quiet.

Quinn shrugged. "No offense of course, but I know that Mercedes resents me. This is unsurprising because most girls in school do. But this time, Mercedes was resentful because I had _you_ Sam. She was jealous, and I know how this goes."

"Am I saying she went after you?" Quinn continued, "Yeah. But I know that it takes two, and you're not innocent in this either, Sam. My problem? You were _mine. _You were mine and when you started paying attention to her suddenly you weren't anymore. I just…I feel really cheated. It hurts."

Mercedes straightened up then, feeling the need to defend herself. "I want you to know that I _never _went after Sam when you two were dating. I didn't even speak to him unless he sought me out. I didn't throw myself at Sam, all we were was friends."

"_Were? _ I bet you're not friends anymore huh?" Of course that's all Quinn got out of what she said. Under the table, Sam squeezed Mercedes' thigh comfortingly. His warm hand soothed her and made her clench at the same time.

"Quinn, that is irrelevant to the conversation. We're talking about you and me. Not Mercedes and I." Sam said, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Quinn's eyes filled with tears. "_Seriously? _If it wasn't for her_, we'd_ still be a you and I! There would still be an _us_. I was _falling_ _in love _with you Sam! You left me for her, and that cuts deep. I'm sorry, but a few apologies aren't going to fix that. Twice, _twice, _I've had to watch my boyfriend leave me for somebody else."

Mercedes' heart went out for the troubled teen mother, but she couldn't let herself feel bad for a girl that sat in a classroom and did nothing when she was at the mercy of their classmates. She just couldn't.

"I know I hurt you Quinn, and I know nothing I say or do will change that," Sam said, "But don't you understand that you deserve so much better? You deserve _someone _so much better than me. A guy that'll love you better than I ever could. Someone that will devote his life to making you happy."

She sniffled. "_You _made me happy Sam. Everything was fine, I was perfect with you. _You're _the one that ruined things. I was just trying to let myself be happy and then you went and threw it away. You're a good guy Sam, and there aren't a lot of them left. Who else is going to love me?"

Mercedes shook her head and looked away. If only she knew.

"Plenty of people." Sam smiled, optimistic as ever. Quinn huffed.

It was at that moment that Damien came bustling through the Lima Bean, looking like the knight in shining armor he was supposed to be. Mercedes almost sighed in relief. Quinn couldn't see him yet from where he was behind her, but thankfully the moment she did her tears would end.

"Hey Merc, Sam, what's up?" Damien said, acting perfectly, "Who's your friend?"

Mercedes could laugh at how ridiculous this all was, but didn't.

Quinn turned to look at the intruder upon their conversation and gasped. Now Mercedes had to practically chew her tongue to keep from laughing. Gosh, was this what she looked like when she saw Sam for the first time? Quinn's chest was heaving and it looked like she was on the verge of fainting. The sun might as well have rose and set in Damien's eyes. She was lost, floating between time and space and emotion. A place where Sam and Mercedes and no one else mattered except for the dark haired man in front of her. And Damien looked like he was restraining himself from sweeping her off and carrying her away. Mercedes knew that in that moment Quinn's life had changed forever. No more hating Mercedes because of Sam, no more crying over a losing battle. She was all Damien's now.

Their work here was done.

"Think we should excuse ourselves now?" Mercedes whispered into Sam's ear.

He chuckled, tugging on her hand. "Let's at least wait until Damien sits down."

"Okay."

Him and her waited for Damien to say his line about being Sam's cousin before giving the line that they were going to Mercedes', because they were. Mercedes leaned down to Damien's ear to ask softly, "Are we going to be safe being away from you for a few hours?"

Damien turned away abruptly as if doused with water and brushed a hand across Mercedes' forehead. Vividly, she felt something like a weight anchor into her, and she blanked for a second before clearing her throat. _What just happened?_

"Now you are." Damien whispered back.

* * *

"So," Mercedes said as Sam drove them home, "We did a good deed today. Bringing two lonely hearts together and such."

He nodded, a smirk on his lips. "It's funny how we went back and forth with Quinn with no resolution in sight, and then the moment Damien's came in—bam! A changed woman."

"That's what love will do."

"Hmm…" Sam looked at her seriously. "Is that what we are? In love?"

"I…" What was she supposed to say to that? Mercedes had known the guy for like three weeks, and knew that Sam was made for her and her for him, but love? She couldn't determine that. Not when everything else was hurting their development. But if Sam did, who said she couldn't?

"Is that how _you_ feel?" She countered.

He stared at her for a moment. "We'll discuss this later when we're not about to have a talk with your mother."

They pulled into the driveway then, and Sam cut the engine. He turned to her and grabbed her face, kissing her with so much force that for the second time today Mercedes had to grip his shoulders. He drew away after a moment and stared at her intensely.

"Mercedes."

That wasn't even a question, but she couldn't stop herself from replying. "Yes?"

"No matter what's said in there, know that I...you're _mine. _Nothing's gonna tear us apart and if your mother tells me to leave, I won't leave you. Not until you tell me to."

She nodded, her face still in his hands.

"I have a cover story to tell your mom, about you being gone for the majority of Christmas break." Sam went on, releasing her and rubbing her arms, "I'm going to say that my family is planning on you coming over to spend some time with us before I leave for Colorado. We've been dating since the start of the school year and yes, are quite serious. My mother would love to meet Mrs. Jones because she's heard wonderful things. I do know about your condition and I support a 100% recovery."

Mercedes cringed at the word 'condition'. "Alright, I get it. Don't forget to be charming."

"Aren't I already?" He asked, flashing the perfect crooked smile.

"Tone it down a bit," Mercedes laughed, "You might give my mother a heart attack."

Sam nodded seriously before laughing. He reached back into the backseat to retrieve a tiny purple tote bag. "This has your clothes in it, you know, from 'spending a couple days with Kurt'?"

Mercedes grabbed the bag. "Yeah, okay. Thank you."

Hand in hand, Mercedes walked with Sam up to her front door. Before ringing the doorbell, she turned to him and tried to smooth his hair down as well as hers but couldn't reach his head with her disadvantage of height.

"Bend down." Mercedes mumbled, annoyed.

"Huh?" He teased, already knowing what she was trying to do. "Why?"

"_Sam._"

"_Mercedes." _He replied, mocking her tone.

She glared at him. "I'm going to kick you to my level if you don't bend down here."

He snickered but bended at the knee anyway. "I never thought our relationship would come to threats so soon."

"Shut up."

Mercedes still had to reach her hand up to fix Sam's hair, but she managed to smooth down a few unruly strands. It might look tousled and cute around regular people, but this was their _mother _they were about to see. She wasn't a regular person.

She pulled away, happy with her handiwork. "There you go."

Sam was staring at her intensely again but shook his head. "Thanks. Ready?"

"Yeah." Mercedes replied, turning and pressing the doorbell. They waited uneasily, her shuffling from foot to foot and Sam chewing on his lip.

The front door opened and Mercedes saw her mother standing in front of the screen door in shorts and a t-shirt, a bun on her head. For a moment Mrs. Jones stood there baffled, obviously taken aback at the sight of Mercedes not standing alone, but holding a boy's hand. She looked from Mercedes to Sam, clearly sizing him up, and Mercedes was never happier that her father wasn't there. If he was this would've been _so _much worse.

"Hello!" Mrs. Jones said with fake enthusiasm, opening up the screen door, "What a pleasant surprise, Mercedes brought a friend over for Sunday dinner!"

Sam was _not _Mercedes' friend, but they'd wait till they were sitting at dinner to let that cat out of the bag.

As if on cue, the smell of food wafted to her nose. Maybe Mercedes was hallucinating, but it smelled like her favorite dinner: Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, corn bread, green beans, the works. Her stomach almost growled in frustration. So this is what she would've come home alone to: Her mother making her favorite meal, as if daring her to not eat it. And she would've taken the bait and probably stomped up the stairs. With Sam in the house she couldn't very well do that.

Sam sniffed audibly. "It smells amazing, Mrs. Jones."

Her mother looked at him as he flashed his winning smile and for a moment blanked. Obviously Mercedes knew where she got her eloquence from. "Well thank you…?"

"Oh sorry miss," Sam said, turning on his southern charm. Mercedes could've rolled her eyes. "I'm Samuel Evans, but please call me Sam. I'm glad I finally get to meet you."

"Finally get to meet me?" She asked, looking at Mercedes confusedly.

"Yeah mom," Mercedes replied, "We've been waiting for a while."

It was almost comical how befuddled her mother looked. "Oh…okay. Please, go sit at the table while I turn off the food."

Sam smiled again and took Mercedes' hand as she led them to her dining room table. After being away for a few days and coming back, her house almost looked different. She set her purple tote down on her couch on the way to the dining room. Sam pulled Mercedes' chair out for her and sat down beside her, still holding hands.

"Nervous?" He asked her.

"Aren't you?" She replied, looking around worriedly.

Sam checked if Mrs. Jones could see them from where they were before leaning over quickly and pecking her on the lips. She sighed contently. "Stop worrying. It'll be okay."

Mercedes opened her mouth to say something but stopped once she saw her mom carrying a tray of food toward them. She dropped Sam's hand and jumped up, walking over to her mother and grabbing the plate. "I'll help get the food mom."

"Thank you." She said, blowing a curly wisp of hair out of her eyes. Again, Mercedes was hit with a wave of anger that her father was nowhere in sight. She shouldn't have to do this alone.

Together, they carried the food to the dining room table, while Sam got up and brought a pitcher of tea from the fridge to set down. Mercedes thought about if she was married, and if it was just her and Sam, setting up the table for dinner. The thought made her happy, not scared.

Once they we're all sat down and Mrs. Jones said grace, she turned to Mercedes. "Care to tell me about your relationship with our guest Cedes?"

She opened her mouth but her mother stopped her. "Oh, and before you think about lying, I saw Sam kiss you when he thought I wasn't looking. By the way—you two are _not _slick."

Here we go.

"Sam and I are dating." Mercedes said, trying not to break eye contact with her mother. "We have been for a while, since the beginning of the school year practically. He's new to McKinley."

Sam squeezed her hand. The action didn't go unnoticed by Mrs. Jones. "So you two are pretty serious."

"Very." Sam agreed with a nod.

Mrs. Jones looked at Mercedes. "Care to tell me why I was never informed about this relationship?"

"There were other things going on," Mercedes said truthfully, "I didn't think it was a good time."

"Right," Her mother agreed with a jerk of her head, "There were."

"I care about your daughter deeply Mrs. Jones, and I hope that you can see that. I know this is sudden, but…" Sam looked at Mercedes, and as they had planned before, she nodded. "I was hoping that Mercedes would be able to spend part of Holiday with my family too."

The room froze and they waited on baited breath for whatever came next. Deep down, Sam and Mercedes both knew that no matter what her mother said she was leaving with him, but this was a nicer method.

"What?" Mrs. Jones asked, as if she heard incorrectly, "What are you asking me?"

"Sam's family's leaving for Colorado after the first week of break," She explained, "And we've been planning on spending that time together. I'll be home within two weeks."

"_Weeks?" _

"We won't be unsupervised or anything, his parents will be around the whole time." Mercedes said.

Mrs. Jones' shoulders slumped. "Why would you want to leave the house for two weeks during a _family orientated _holiday?"

"I just wanted to spend time with Sam before he goes away. Holiday's like almost a month long break."

"You don't have to give us an answer now, of course. We just wanted you to consider it." Sam said softly, flashing Mrs. Jones a smile and saving the day.

Mercedes' mother cleared her throat. "It's a lot to take in, you know. One minute my baby's a loner and the next—she has a serious boyfriend! I don't know how to react to all of this."

"That's perfectly understandable Miss Jones," Sam agreed, speaking with twang, "I'm not here trying to take your daughter away. I just want to make her happy."

And on that note, her mother clapped her hands together. "Alright, let's eat!"

* * *

As if the words held poison, Mercedes had the hardest time trying to consume everything her mother loaded her plate with. Chicken fried steak with gravy, mashed potatoes and green beans, cornbread, and sweet tea. Even if it was her favorite, trying to stomach everything was horror. Sam was getting along nicely with his plate—he had already started on seconds—and here she was, not even halfway through hers. She didn't understand. Why was eating so easy alone with Sam but around her mother and other people, she was a hot mess?

Mercedes wrung her hands in her lap before attempting another go with dinner. She sliced her steak into two pieces, then four, then eight, and then stopped before her mother started to stare.

Too late.

She scooped up a microscopic glob of mashed potato on her fork and plunged it into her mouth. Chewing did not distract Mrs. Jones. She watched Mercedes divide her food into as many small bites as possible, a frown on her lips. "Are you alright?"

Mercedes laid her fork down. "I—I can't do this. I feel sick."

"Why?" Mrs. Jones asked without emotion.

"My stomach hurts." She replied, now feeling the full weight of Sam's stare on her.

"Why do you think your stomach hurts, Cedes?"

"What? What kind of question is that?"

"I think," Her mother said, ignoring the earlier question, "That your stomach hurts because you're hungry."

She shrugged. No use lying, Sam would just rat her out. "Okay, so I haven't eaten today. I've been tired."

Mrs. Jones looked over at Sam, who had at this point stopped eating to watch Mercedes squirm. "Do you know about this behavior?"

"Yeah, I do." He sighed, and that lone action filled Mercedes with shame.

"Mercedes," She started, turning to look at her daughter, "The last time we went to dentist, they said you had mouth sores and enamel erosion."

"Okay…" _What was she getting at?_

"And there are _always _cuts on your fingers."

"I'm a klutz, so what?"

Mrs. Jones sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "That's what I used to believe. But then I started to think about it."

"Why were you always in the bathroom after dinner? Why did the sink turn on the moment the door closed? Why were your eyes so bloodshot afterward? Then Friday morning, when you literally got mad at me because I told you to _eat, _I did some research."

Mercedes shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"And now, seeing you divide your food up so much it's in bits, I came to a conclusion."

Mercedes looked down into her lap, too ashamed to chance a look at Sam. They knew this was coming—_she _knew it was coming, but while Sam was still here?! She expected, at least, that her mother would save it for later. But she didn't. Mrs. Jones was fronting her out in front of someone she had just met.

She pushed her plate away. "I can't."

"It's not that you _can't_ eat, but that you _won't. _And you won't because you're bulimic. When you start to eat like a normal person, you won't fall ill every time I cool something."

Tears were filling her eyes and she shook her head. "No."

Mrs. Jones shrugged. "There's no use denying it at this point Cedes. Eat your cornbread."

"Eating makes me feel worse." Mercedes was on the verge of crying tears of shame. She didn't want to talk about this or listen to her mom talk about this.

"If you don't eat I'll have no choice but to put you in inpatient therapy."

Reluctantly and downheartedly, Mercedes grabbed for the hunk of cornbread on her plate. She broke it up into two pieces and nibbled on sweet corn and fluffy bread. It tasted good, but couldn't her mom see that eating wasn't the real problem? It was what came afterwards, the weight gain and puking and starving and shame. It was wiping the vomit off her t-shirt and splashing water on her face because she could hide bloodshot eyes most of the time. It was lying in bed at night, in pain, feeling like someone was beating her heart up with a bat and daring the poor muscle to stop. It was waking up and seeing her hair fall thin out and wearing hoodies in the summer because it was always cold no matter what she did. Not eating wasn't the cure, but it did prevent a lot of problems.

Mercedes didn't know what the solution was, but it sure as hell wasn't the act of eating.

After three minutes of Sam and her mother watching Mercedes eat, Mrs. Jones broke first. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you."

Buttery bread was stuck on the roof of her tongue. "What?"

"If you eat—_properly_—you can stay at Sam's." She said.

"You're lying."

"I wouldn't lie about this."

Mercedes looked over at Sam for the first time in twenty minutes. He had a pained expression on his face again, but he nodded reassuringly. "Okay mom, deal."

* * *

**WHOOT WHOOT! My longest chapter I've ever written! Please excuse typos!**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH: LovesamcedesStory, Kimpa7809, Mercypowaaa, TBloves2read (the way you looked into MJ's ED was lovely), Oxford, Haitianm, LadiJ (your story with Zeejack is amazing!), eowyn, krazykay23 (you are taking alllll the trophies with these in depth reviews, srsly.), randomlittleme, and TeamSethLover.**

**You guys really like Sam's POV, so, depending on the reception on this chapter I might write this is his POV for next update!**

**How was everything? A lot happened in this chapter, so let me know how you felt about it! What did you think about the Damien-Mercy interaction, the Quinn/Sam/Mercy conversation, Damien meeting Quinn, The Mom/Sam/Mercy dinner convo, and of course, Samcedes interaction. Do we like Quinn or dislike her? Are we warming up to Damien? Tell me what you think!**

**Please review!**


	23. Butterflies

**I just wanna touch and kiss**

**And I wish that I could be with you tonight**

**You give me butterflies inside, inside and I…**

* * *

Sam watched Mercedes as she finished the dinner her mother prepared for them. He didn't know what to do as he saw her struggle with eating. It made no sense how she could finish a meal off with him around, but otherwise she resisted it. In all honesty Sam was tired and he couldn't make this confusing part of Mercy priority anymore. There were so many other things that he had to take care of. Helping her through this eating disorder was a part of his main concern of course, but keeping her alive and well was number one.

Sam just didn't know what to do anymore.

After dinner with Mrs. Jones and Mercy, Sam 'went home', or at least that's what he said. He and Mercedes both knew he was coming back. So while Mercy and Mrs. Jones got ready for bed Sam grabbed Mercedes' keys and ran back to the theater, intent on retrieving her Prius. In the midst of everything that was happening, he forgot about her car still being in the parking lot, and so did Mercedes. Hopefully it wasn't towed.

Last night while she was sleeping, Damien came to Sam to talk about the upcoming war. Both of them knew that after Mercedes' reaction, there was no way she was going to hear anything else about it. Sam loved Mercedes to death, but he just wasn't going to put her in anymore situations where she would be liable to go ballistic. Nope. So unless she _had _to know, she wasn't going to.

Damien and Sam had gone back and forth over what move they should make for a long time. And no matter what was said, it was plain to see that until the other Elites came nothing was going to get done. He hated waiting for someone else's move, but what could he do? The best they could do was alert their women of the danger amidst and spend time with them.

And maybe, _hopefully, _love each other in every way possible. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Sam was two-thirds of the way there. They still had the physical part to get to. Mercedes loved him—even though she didn't fully understand it yet. Everything was still so new to her, but once Mercedes remembered that she loved him, the physical part would come through. Or maybe they could work up to it.

Sam _wanted_ to feel bad because he was fretting over when he would get to make love to her, but he just couldn't. He wasn't going to be ashamed for wanting Mercedes like this for perhaps the last ten days of his life. If anything they ought to be relishing in each other, because it was safe to say that once the others arrived the romance would probably come to an end, or dwindle down into almost nothing. Sam didn't think Mercedes was going to be in the mood with potential disaster going on. He'd _always _be in the mood for her, but the other way around? He didn't know.

Sam _did_ know, however, that there needed to be some serious decisions made. Unfortunately, until everybody else on their side showed up, they were sitting ducks.

"_Who else is coming?" Sam asked Damien after he materialized in their hotel room, looking as stressed as he felt. _

_Damien probably was even more stressed out than Sam at this point. Samuel had accepted his fate—that he'd probably be dead within the next three weeks—but what about Damien? At least Sam had Mercedes. Damien didn't have Quinn yet. That was why Sam was going to help put those two together before it literally killed him. Hopefully within the next couple of days Damien and Quinn would elope or whatever so when they had to leave, it wouldn't be as painful. _

_Then again, who was Sam kidding? Leaving your Promise was painful no matter what._

"_Jonathan, Paul, Felix, and they're bringing in their friends," Damien replied, staring blankly at Mercedes, who was curled into Sam's side. Sam knew that Damien wasn't ogling her, but still he had to suppress growling. "I'm not sure how many friends they have, but I don't think it'll be enough."_

_Sam scoffed, looking down at Mercy. He was sitting up, and had thrown their cover over the top of them. She was blissfully asleep, snuggled in blankets and slightly snoring. It made his heart melt. And then, not even two seconds later, it broke again. He'd only get to see her like this for ten more days, if that. "Of course it won't be enough."_

"_We need a strategy, but we can't form one without the others here. They've been on the inside of Elitist throughout all this drama; they would know what's going on better than we ever could."_

"_Nothing was happening when you were still there?"_

_Damien shook his head. "No, everyone there was still trying to act like nothing was wrong, even though the Council started putting restrictions on everything. No more watching your Promises for long extended periods of time, no Reaching out to talk to anyone privately, and you always have to be working on some assignment. It was absolutely ridiculous when I was still there. I can't imagine how bad it must be now." _

_As if on instinct, Sam pulled Mercedes even closer to him. "It's probably at the breaking point."_

"_At this point, it _is_ broken."_

_They remained in silence for a few more moments. Damien stared off into the distance before turning to Sam. "You know, I used to hate you."_

"_Okay? Everyone hates me back there, you were no different."_

"_Oh, but I was," Damien disagreed, "I hated you for another reason entirely."_

"_And what would that be?" Sam asked._

"_I hated you because…because I was jealous."_

_Sam snapped his head around. "What?"_

"_Look at you," He started, his voice raw, "Even though everything is going to shit, you still have your Promise. If we were killed right now, at least you spent time with the girl you love. I would die as lonely as I was born."_

_Damien's shoulders slumped. "Those Elites back in Elitist? They're going off to a war that they'll probably be killed in, without ever experiencing love. I don't want that fate for me Sam. If I'm going to die, I want Quinn. Sure, some of the Elites think we're weak, but who cares? They're arrogant and ignorant. And honestly, if you weren't the first to claim your Promise without it being their time, someone else would've." _

_There were so many emotions running through Sam at that point, but the first was confusion. "Why are you telling me this?"_

"_Did you not want me to?"_

_Sam shook his head. "That's not what I'm talking about. Why are you telling me this now?"_

"_We're probably going to die soon, Samuel," Damien replied offhandedly, "Don't you think we should go out with nothing left unsaid?" _

"_I…I guess." Sam was still baffled. Damien was baring his soul to him and Sam couldn't even form a decent response. Then felt guilty. Here he was, with Mercedes, and what did Damien have? Nothing. Damien was here risking his life for someone he used to hate and a girl he didn't know. Sure, both of them were going through hell, but Sam had Mercedes. Damien didn't have Quinn yet._

"_We're gonna get Quinn, Damien. I can promise you that." Sam vowed after another silence._

_Damien just smiled sadly at him. "That's why I'm here."_

"_Hey." Sam asked, breaking Damien out of his thoughts. _

"_Hmm?"_

"_Try and be nicer to Mercedes, would you?" Sam bit his lip, looking down at the sleeping beauty next to him, "She has a lot going on right now—and I know, so do we. But could you not take your stress out on her? Mercy is a bit…fragile."_

_Damien had look of understanding on his face. "The eating disorder?"_

_Sam's jaw clenched. "Yeah."_

"_Okay."_

"_So," He continued, "I'd really appreciate it if you'd try to, I dunno, be friends with her or something. Just try. She's really sweet and needs another person in her life to make her smile—"_

"_Okay, okay, I get it," Damien interjected, rolling his eyes; "Mercedes is nice and sweet and fragile and walks on water. All right. I'll be so nice she won't know what's going on."_

_Sam smiled. "Thank you."_

_Damien scrutinized him. "You've had sex with her, haven't you?"_

_Well that took him by surprise._

"_What?"_

"_Wouldn't it explain why you two are always playing tonsil hockey?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips._

"_No," Sam coughed, "We haven't slept with each other. She's 'known' me for like three weeks Damien, Mercedes isn't like that."_

_Damien scoffed. "Oh please, she acts like she's in heat every time you're in the vicinity. She may not be 'like that' as you're saying, but she's is with you. It's in our nature to want our Promises and vice versa."_

_Sam looked down at Mercedes, as if she was an active participant in the conversation. "I'm just trying to take it slow with her."_

"_For the love of God Samuel," He scolded, "If she wants you, take her. What are you waiting on? We only have ten days."_

"_I just don't think its fair—"_

"_Do you not want her?" Damien teased, "Is that why you're pretending to do all this chivalry nonsense?"_

_Sam snarled. "Of course I want her, you asshole. She's all I ever want. And I'm not pretending to be a gentleman. I have ten days left with her; I don't want Mercedes to remember me as some pervert that was trying to mount her every chance I got."_

"_Fine," Damien shrugged, "Say what you will. But from what I see, I don't think Mercedes would mind if you did just that."_

"_What about you? Are you going to be like that with Quinn if the opportunity presents itself?" Sam asked, feeling the need to change the subject._

"_Unlike _you _Samuel, yes I am. And she'll love every minute of it."_

_Sam stared at Damien for a moment. The Council was corrupt—that couldn't be denied—but he saw what they were doing when they put Damien and Quinn together. Everything she was, Damien was the opposite. Physically and emotionally. He was pale with dark hair and dark eyes; Quinn was tan with blonde hair and blue eyes. Damien didn't care about people's judgment, but that was _all _Quinn cared about. The only similarity Sam could see was that they were both reserved people._

"_Good luck with that." _

Luckily, Quinn managed to come into Damien's life not twelve hours later. Thank God. For once, something good happened for them. Now Damien could have an easier time keeping them Shadowed and hidden. It was a damn shame that Sam couldn't do it anymore, but he would just have to wait until he could go back into training with the others to see what he was capable of doing now. Again, it was bizarre that they had ten days till the war began and here they were, sitting around, waiting.

In a perfect world, Sam would be strong enough to keep Mercedes safe without Damien's help. He _could_ train and be ready to go to war in ten days. He would make every day left with Mercy amazing and worthwhile. In a perfect world he would be coming home to her, alive.

But it wasn't.

The world was so imperfect and off balance that the ten days he _did_ have couldn't be spent peacefully. One of the Council's spies tried to ambush them, for Christ's sake! If it wasn't for Damien saving their asses, once again, they would've been dead. Sam should've known something was off when he gave the receptionist their room keys, but his semi-human body didn't allow him to pick up the signs. The force of Alexander's—the spy sent to attack them first—arrival came as a detached feeling. Erratic. The atmosphere had changed and the air got steadily duskier, but he just couldn't pinpoint it.

Then, just as Sam was walking out of the Renaissance, Damien's Shadow blanketed him all the way to the car. Sam knew that was what was happening because he had the sensation of becoming two people simultaneously. Damien whispered to stay quiet, and the voice had come to him behind his left ear. Sam had turned frigid at once, but at least he had the strength to walk to his Jeep. It was by the grace of God that they had gotten away.

Now, as Sam drove Mercedes' Prius home, he worried about their safety. Sam had been stressed sick over it all day to the point where he could barely pay attention to Mercy. He knew that Damien had passed on something to Mercedes when they were leaving the Lima Bean, but how long would that last? Whatever protection Damien gave them while he was away doing whatever—would it be enough? Sam didn't know.

He had the sensation to bang his head into the steering wheel. Sam was a man. He shouldn't be depending on another man to protect himself and his lady—that was his job. It was a damn shame. He couldn't do anything until reinforcements came so he could train his new body. And at the moment he needed to get back to Mercedes so he could make sure she was safe.

* * *

Sam managed to climb the tree beside Mercedes' window and get into the house without alerting her mother. Mrs. Jones was a freakin' hawk when it came to Mercy.

Well, so was he.

He sat on Mercedes' bed and waited for her to get out of the shower and changed quickly into the shirt and sweats he slipped into her small purple tote. Sam had been so stressed out he barely paid attention to Mercedes today, and he was hoping that now he could make it up to her.

Just as he heard the water of her shower stop, Sam slipped his shirt back off his chest. If he was going to sleep beside Mercy, he was going to be as comfortable as he pleased. The door to her bathroom opened, causing Sam to look up. Mercedes emerged clad in a purple nightshirt with her hair wet and almost straightened from the shower. Where it was mid back when dry, Mercedes' hair easily touched her hips when wet. Sam swallowed hard.

The nightshirt Mercedes was wearing looked worn and old, but it clung to her and was exceptionally shorter than the others she had. Easily, this short worn purple nightie was his favorite. From what it looked like, she wasn't wearing a bra. Sam pretty much memorized the shape her breasts took when she went without one. Around him it had only been once, but he had a good memory.

Mercedes looked a bit startled at the sight of Sam sitting on her bed in sweats, like she didn't expect him to be there. Where else would he be at this point? With Damien? No thank you. She turned to him with a nervous expression, her nightie drooping off her shoulder.

"Hey," Mercedes greeted him shyly. "I didn't know you'd be here so soon."

Sam shrugged, his eyes glued to the delectable skin exposed on her shoulder. And her legs, especially her plush thighs. "I try to be as close as possible at all times."

She nodded, and then sat down on the bed, her knees tucked beneath her. Mercedes leaned forward to stare at Sam. "That's sweet."

"I guess you could say that."

"Sam?" Mercedes' nightie slid down her shoulder to the point of it stopping at her bicep. She _definitely _wasn't wearing a bra.

He moved closer to her and she looked at him anxiously. Sam didn't know what it was that had him attracted to her like a magnet right now, especially when he meant to _talk _to her. But here he was, lowering his head, dipping his face down until his mouth was hovering over hers.

"I _was _gonna talk to you tonight, Mercy." He said, feeling her excited breath on his mouth, "But I…I want to kiss you."

"Please."

One of his hands found her exposed shoulder, while the other ran across her collarbone. Sam finally leaned in to press his lips against hers while rubbing his hand up and down her arm. Fervently Mercedes kissed him back harder, opening her mouth to him, needing to taste. And God so did he, but he pulled away.

"Sam no," Mercedes panted, "Don't—"

He shook his head, chuckling softly. "Patience, Mercy. I promise it'll be worth the wait."

Mercedes looked up at him expectantly and Sam kissed her softly again. He pulled back to start a trail of kisses starting at her shoulder and up her neck, then back down again. She shivered under his lips and her eyes closed. He smirked. Sam maneuvered Mercedes into lying down as she relaxed, and covered her body with his.

"Sam," Mercedes groaned, locking her legs around his waist, "Please."

"Please what? Tell me what you want, Mercy."

Her breasts pushed against his chest. "I want you, Sam. I—I need you. Please."

Sam didn't mean for the first night spent in her house since all the danger began to be spent like _this_. He never knew that Mercedes would be pleading for him so early on, especially after the drama at dinner, but maybe she was just so pent up that now it had become an urgent need. And Sam could _smell _her again.

And he couldn't get over how hard she was arching into him, when he hadn't even begun to touch her yet. Or the sounds she was making. A high, wanting sound that made him want to give it to her, whatever she wanted. Give it to her so he could hear her make that sound again.

If he wasn't already, now Sam was now impossibly hard.

He propped himself up and looked down at her. The moonlight was dancing on her skin. "Mercedes?"

"Hmm?" His fingers were teasing the flesh her gown exposed.

"I'm going to touch you now," Sam said, his voice gruff, "I hope that's okay. Because really, I might go insane if I don't."

Mercedes whimpered, shivering and tightening her legs around him. He started out slow, giving her a chance to back out of it. He gently, tentatively, slipped his hand up and under her nightie. The skin there was soft and supple. He made sure to take his time. Sam caressed every centimeter of stomach he could, memorizing the curves and dips of her.

Then he ran out of stomach and there was no place to go but up. Or down. But he'd work his way to that. The skin of her ribcage and above must've been tenderer than the rest of her, because she was shaking like a leaf beneath him. If he didn't have her breathy moans in his ear guiding him, he'd swear she was afraid.

Finally, his hand found the naked swell of her breast. Mercedes had body for days, and her breasts were a part of that package. She was soft and velvety here, her nipples hard but soft. Fuck.

She pushed into his hand. "Oh Sam, please…please squeeze harder."

Sam about stopped. Was this really the shy girl from an hour ago? Where had she gone? Part of Sam knew that her quest for release was stronger than her self-esteem, but he hoped this Mercedes would stay a while longer.

He put his hands on her ribs and slid them down then back up, all the way to her breasts, repeating his earlier actions. Gentle squeeze, but harder, a little pull and a twist of her nipples. She felt so good in his hands, the naked weight of her spilling out of his palm.

"Mmm…" She moaned, her head thrown back, "That feels good Sammy. So good."

Sam made a low growling sound deep in his chest. So now he was Sammy again. He dropped his face back into her neck and nipped at the skin there appreciatively. Mercedes' scent surged up around them, demanding him to give her a release. She was panting openly now, not holding back her noises. Luckily her mom's room was across the house.

His long fingers and wide palms moved down from her breasts to her ribs then stomach and hips. He held her hip with one hand then scorched a path from the other, over to the center of Mercedes' abdomen. She moved her hips against his hands, and he gripped her harder before pulling away to look at his woman.

Mercedes was panting and gasping, staring up at him with a look of wonder. Her hair was fanned out behind her and curling up. The softness of her curves were pressed against him in the best way. He was about to burst through the front of his sweats. God she was beautiful.

Sam made eye contact with Mercedes and her hips bucked up toward his hand. "Baby?"

"What, Sam?"

He knew that Mercedes' body was practically begging him at that point to make a move, but he was still going to ask. Sam had to know for sure that it was what she wanted. He had to know before he touched Mercedes on the most intimate part of her body. "Can I…can I touch you?"

Mercedes' eyes darkened and widened, her scent getting stronger. Then she nodded. Fuck. Sam kissed her gently before grasping the waistband of her cotton panties and pulling them down slowly. Once the scrap of fabric was off her ankles and discarded somewhere, Sam paused.

"You'll have to tell me," He starting, rubbing her hip again, "If I'm hurting you. Tell me what you like."

She nodded and he kissed her again. A slow hot kiss that had his head spinning.

Sam didn't know where to start. He knew how to pleasure a woman. Sam did his research and he had heard enough from the others around him to know what he was doing. But _his _woman? He didn't want to mess that up.

He slid his hand over to touch the space in the very center of her hips, not quite in between her legs. She had a small patch of curls that led south, and Sam ran his hand lightly over it. He cupped her heat in his hand but didn't move, trying to give Mercedes time to collect herself. Her body was taut with anticipation. She squeezed her eyes closed and took a few deep breaths.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Sam opened up her legs a bit, brushing his fingers over her clit. Mercedes gasped loudly, and her scent rushed between them.

"Do you like that?" Sam asked, touching her further down.

"Oh yes, _yes,_" Mercedes was stunning: panting with lustful eyes, her hair around her like a halo, her fingers fisted tight in his hair. "God, you—just go back up. Just a little, Sam—please."

He did, pressing his fingers into her. Mercedes sucked in a breath. "Like this?"

"Just like that," Her head collapsed back onto the pillow behind her. God, she was so beautiful in her pleasure. "Harder."

"Harder?" He asked, in time with applying pressure.

She rolled her hips consistently against his fingers. "Yes."

Sam swirled his fingers over the small nub that seemed to be the source of most of the pleasure—it's what got the most reaction from Mercy anyway—and Mercedes' eyes fluttered, like they were going to roll back in her head She was gasping and moaning, her hands gripping his hair as tight as possible. Soon, his fingers were slick with her pleasure.

"You're so wet, Mercy. Is this all for me?" He asked, his voice sounding different, almost as if he was crooning. Her eyes got wide then glazed over.

Sam slipped his fingers down and back up her wet lips. She was incapable of replying to him at that point. The only thing she could do was make soft moaning noises and pant for air.

"So sexy..." Sam said, his voice throaty and thick, "Mmm."

He dipped the tip of one of his fingers just barely into her opening. Mercedes stared up at him in awe as he tenderly explored her.

"Sam," Her eyes were dark with lust, but wide with innocence as well. She was so unbelievably sexy right now, "I—I don't know what's—"

"Hmm?"

"Sammy, please, help me, I'm so—so..."

She was close. Fuck yes. He sped up his efforts, pressing into her harder and pinching her clit. After a few seconds, Mercy started gasping, the thrusts of her hips coming closer together and more insistently. Sam knew that she was so close, and he was going to get her there. He had to.

"Sammy! Oh God, Sam, _Sam…_"

Fuck, yes. God, yes. Nothing had ever sounded so good. Mercedes rocked her hips against his hand a few more times and shuddered violently.

"I want you to cum for me, Mercy." He buried his face in her neck, biting down gently and that was her breaking point.

She gasped, her eyes widening and her body taking a frantic pace under his, and she clutched Sam's back for dear life. He murmured encouragement in her ear and continued his efforts until slowly she came down. The thrusts of her hips grew weaker and further apart, her whines lessened and became quieter, her breathing slowing. Her heartbeat decreased, slowly. And he got to see all of it.

Sam felt like a superhero.

* * *

***There are probably typos…**

**Hey there, remember me? It's almost been two weeks—hope ya'll didn't forget about this story!**

**THANK YOU: Kimpa7809, LovesamcedesStory, TBloves2read (really enjoy your long in depth reviews, thank you!), Guest, NCC-0419 (hope this explains Sam's actions to you), AntoniaSayonara (I'll probably make outtakes for the Qamien stuff, lol), krazykay23 (loved your response, of course, and I hope you liked this chapter), Mercypowaaa, Guest, Samcedes5ever (it's 1:13 A.M, so time to update! Lol)**

**This was a filler chapter almost, but hopefully you like how it was filled with good stuff. You know, a lime and such. We got to see inside Damien a bit, and him and Sam had a little guy talk. How did we like that? And the Samcedes smut, of course… You gotta let me know if you liked that, because my specialty isn't samcex, so it always makes me nervous to write it. **

**Please review!**


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